Drifters: Chrysanthemums

CHAPTER 1

***

Dragon lairs were not how one would usually imagine them. Some were shallow caves dug in raw stone and carved by claws and fangs, but that was not for true dragons. That was for youths and adolescents, little beasts who were still finding their way in the world and lived by catching the crumbs fallen by the jaws of dragons greater than them. True dragons had the gold to pay for their lairs to be built for them: huge castles and golden palaces, impenetrable fortresses and floating buildings in the sky nobody could see nor hear, endless caravans that traveled through cities and deserts bringing gifts and marvels in exchange of worship and adoration. And then there were the weird ones, the ones who did not care to have a lair at all. They did not mean to be worshipped and did not mean to be adored. They wanted to travel: for what reason, only they knew. The legends said they brought bad luck to the places they visited, so the other races avoided them. Even the other dragons were wary of them, because they were considered weird at best and insane at worst. The wyrm races called them 'Askugama', which means 'they who do not rest'. Other races called them Drifters.

***

They found the child's body impaled on the branches of a devil tree one cold black winter morning under a full moon and the sight of him made half of Ribia throw up while the other half cried. Whatever had gotten him had opened him from the front and eaten all the guts and the organs and the muscle they could find, torn him apart so much the limbs were resting at the feet of the tree like ripe fruits, but it had left enough of the head to tell it was the youngest of the Wyllorn brothers. His mother had died of the flu years before, so she was not there to see it, but his father was and when he saw what was left of the boy he sat down in the snow and took his head in his hands and that was it. He didn't scream or cry or sob, he just curved on himself and gave up. His other sons carried him in their house while the rest of the men tried to pull the corpse down with ropes, but every time they managed to get a hold to a bone or a piece of hanging guts all they managed to do was pull it off. In the end they got ahold of the vertebrae immediately below the neck and pulled. The head fell in the snow with a wet thud, and the one eye the corpse had left rolled out of its orbit and got lost amid the white. They called Old Ben. He was seventy and half-way to senility, but he'd taken military service and was the only one there who had seen a body who had not been killed by frost or bear. He arrived with a bottle of beer in his hand, then he gave one look at the little bloody head laying on the snow. "Well, fuck me sideways" he said, "they ate the little sucker like a fucking shrimp," and then laughed all the way back to his shack.

There was nothing else they could do, so they put together what pieces they managed to gather in a sack and brought them to the church. When they opened it in front of the parish he made a disgusted face and gave him the blessing, but only after asking they close the sack first. In the end the boy's brothers carried the corpse behind the church, dug a hole in the ground and threw the sack in it. A few days later they got their stuff and their still catatonic father in their cart and left town in the night without saying a word. Nobody protested. Nobody was saddened. They said that if whatever had butchered the Wyllorn boy had chosen him there had to be a reason. With the rest of the family gone, the danger would pass.

The next full moon, they found two more bodies. This time they were adults, and all that was left of them was the skin.

I

It was the time camelias started to die out. Kyril knew them and he knew that they resisted well the cold and that if they were starting to die too then it was a rough winter they had in front of them. One night he had nothing better to do so he walked outside of the temple and watched the patch of pink flowers grow weaker and weaker as the night went on and by the morning they seemed almost ready to fall before the first rays of the sun poked their way through the clouds and fell of them as if the heavens themselves did not want them to die, but some did. Some just did not have the strength to raise once more. Some recovered a little, but not by much, and the next night the cycle started all over again. Every time less flowers went back up and he wondered how long it would be before none could stand it anymore, and they all just stayed on the ground where they would remain. One morning he woke up from a troubled sleep and went outside of the temple in time to see a woman get close to the patch and cut the last flower with a sickle, put it in a pack and then walk away. She did not see him. He watched her walk away with a pain in his chest he couldn't explain and then went back inside to sleep again. He slept a lot lately. Unless he had to train or study or rip the lungs out of the few manticores that had the guts to venture in the forest that surrounded the temple, he slept. He didn't know why. He felt like doing nothing and doing nothing he did. Feiras was supposed to scold him for that, but she did not. She trained him and made him read the ancient tomes of history and science and mathematics and then she slept too, her beak tucked under her left wing while balancing herself on the right leg, and he looked at her and laughed because for all the might and magnificence of a phoenix she looked like a crane. They all felt sleepy and they all felt tired and it was not the winter, it was not the winter at all.

One night he stayed awake from dusk until down, for no reason other than the fact he had slept too much through the day. Feiras did not sleep either: he could tell from the sounds and the whispers coming from her chambers. Whether she was meditating or praying, he couldn't tell. The next morning she came to him and didn't even greet him. He jumped on his feet and waited for her to speak.

"Did you sleep tonight?" she said.

"No," he said.

"You should have."

"Why?"

"Winter has come," she said. "The day of your rite of passage comes closer and closer."

"You still haven't told me what this 'rite of passage' is."

"You're not supposed to, know " she said. "Only dragons who already passed it do, which means only the adults of the clan, and they do not reveal it to the young no matter what."

"You're no dragon."

"I'm a phoenix," she said. "I know enough about your kind to act like one." She unfolded her wings and stood up. "I'm leaving. I'll gift some of my feathers to Gillipsia. The winter will be bad this year." She stopped dead in her tracks, as if in deep thoughts. She lowered her head and closed her eyes shut. "We will need chrysanthemums," she said. then she opened her eyes, brushed her feathers against his arm and left the temple.

Kyril remained where he was, now awake and aware of the darkness around him and the nothingness it contained. The old hag could sometimes say strange things, but she usually did not speak in riddles. Hours passed until it was clear she wouldn't be back anytime soon, so he spent his time how he usually spent it when Feiras wasn't there: lazily training, pretending to read, dozing off in the pound until the feeling of water on his scales stopped being soothing and started being annoying. When nothing else could distract him from the boredom anymore he climbed out of the subterranean temple and walked through the frozen woods to see which plant what animal was dead and what wasn't, what plant had succumbed to the cold and what had resisted. He kept on like this until it came to him he hadn't seen the old mountain troll in a long time, and so there he went.

The troll was awake when he found him. He was cooking a skewered boar on a bonfire, a hand on his cheek to sustain his massive head and another to roll the stick so the hog wouldn't be burned. He had a pipe in his mouth. When he saw Kyril his eyes widened and a smirk broke his rocky skin. "Kyril," he said. "It's good to see you. What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be training with the old birdie?"

"Rully," he greeted him, lowering his head. "I suppose I should, but the queen's not here today, so I'm doing whatever I want. Killing time, I suppose."

"That's good, that's good. Killing time is good." He rolled the hog on the least cooked part. "Killing time is good.. Killing things is good. You know I killed a giant yesterday?"

"Truly. And how did you do that?"

"Broke his knees, of course. Then broke his head." He grabbed the huge, knobby club next to him and swung it around. "You should've seen it, what a mess it was. Blood and gore everywhere, like the battles from the old times." He pointed the club at him. "By the way, how long have we known each other?"

"I'm not sure. You know time is hard for dragons. I'd say twenty winters or so."

"Twenty winters," he said, stupefied. "Twenty winters is a lot. You should be dead by now." He laughed. "Your skull would also make a great decoration for my cave. Yes, yes, great decoration."

"You'd have to be careful where you hit me," Kyril said. "If you break my skull, no more decoration."

"Oh, I know. I'd simply cave in your chest."

"You're free to try if you want to."

The troll gave a yell of triumph. He grabbed the club with both hands, the boar forgotten, and stood up. He was about seventeen feet tall and towered over him by four. He swung the club on the right and then on the left as if to calibrate the strength of the blow. "Alright, here it comes, Kyril. It was nice to know you. "

Rully swung the club over his head and hit him in the chest. The club broke and splintered in a million pieces as if made of rotten wood. The blowback hit Rully harder than the mace had hit Kyril and the troll fell on his ass with a howl of pain. Kyril remained where he was, his head tilted to the left and his eyebrows raised. "Are you alright?" he said.

"Gods be damned," Rully said. "Gods be damned. My club is gone."

"Be glad your wrist did not break along with it this time."

"What do you mean 'this time?" This is the first time we fight."

"Never mind."

"Never mind my ass," Rully said as he stood back up. "You know what, I don't need my mace," he said, and laughed. "I can just choke you out with my hands.

"No, you can't."

"What do you - "

He did not end the sentence. Kyril throw himself at him at the speed of sound, so fast the eyes of the troll couldn't follow his movements. His skull crushed against his chest and every bone in the troll's torso shattered like old glass. Both the troll's arms dislocated from the force of the blow and as he fell down his back cracked. The troll screamed again, his eyes wide and pupils reduced to slits as the pain almost made him pass out. He started trashing on the ground though every movement brought more pain. Kyril walked around him and reached his head. He looked at him in the eyes.

"Everything fine?" he asked.

"You cursed lizard!" Rully yelled. "You turned me into a cripple!"

Kyril sighed. "Not the first time I do it. Listen, once Feiras comes back she'll heal you. When you're better I I'll let you try to kill me again. You must promise you won't try to hurt anybody else though."

Rully calmed immediately. "Oh, shit. Can I try again? Truly?"

"Sure. Just stay here and don't cause problems to the city folk."

"That's fair. When will Feiras be back?"

"I don't now. Evening, I suppose. You want me to keep you company?"

"Oh no, thank you," said Rully. "Though we're friends, my defeat by your hands shames me. I'd like to scream my frustrations without having you around to hear me. I wouldn't want to offend.

"As you wish," Kyril said. He turned back to return to the temple, and as he did so Rully started to scream a long list of swears and insults, mostly directed to Kyril, his mother and the entire dragon race. Kyril flew down the mountain, took a bath in a pond in the near woods and went back to the temple. He could still hear Rully screaming, but it had started to rain and he couldn't hear what he said anymore. He shook his head and went back to sleep.

Feiras came back at dusk with less feathers than she should have had and a bunch of chrysanthemums in her beak. Water could not touch her, it evaporated the moment it brushed her feathers, but she was disheveled and her expression was cold as stone. He was awake when she returned, but she said nothing so neither did he. She put the chrysanthemums in a vase in the corner of the room and sat in that weird way birds usually sit. For a long time none of them said something, then she turned toward him. "What have you done today?"

"Trained a bit," he said. "Read some books. Hadn't seen Rully in a while, so I gave him a visit."

"I know. You broke his spine."

"Didn't mean to."

"Liar," she said. Another moment of silence passed. "He's fine now. Says next time he sees you he'll offer you a roast and then rip your balls off."

"As long as he stays away from the peasants and the townsfolk, he can say whatever he wants."

"You should have killed him," she said. "He's too dangerous to be left alive."

Kyril barked a laugh.

"What?" she said.

"If you think he's so dangerous, why not kill him yourself?"

She didn't answer.

"Are you hungry?" he said. "I can go hunting if want."

She glared at him in silence for an instant, then sighed. "Yes. I would appreciate it."

So he went. He wasn't very hungry and Feiras never ate a lot, so he decided one manticore would do the job. He chose the biggest one and killed it in one blow, a precise cut on the back of the neck that dropped the beast dead where it stood. The others ran away screaming as he loaded the carcass on his shoulders, then he spread his wings and flew back to the temple. "Thank you," Feiras said as he dropped the animal in front of her, and they ate together under the thaumaturgic lights of the temple lanterns as the rain fell outside. They spoke of the weather and the sudden cold that had arrived in those days and the visit of the son of The Soltarian Empire's emperor touring Gillipsia for a day. Once they were done eating she asked him to tell her what books he had read during the day and why, and he did his best to remember titles and words and concept he'd already forgotten and had never cared about in the first place. They spoke for a long time, much longer than usual, and Kyril had the feeling she wasn't interested in what the books were about. She just wanted to stay with him.

It was almost midnight when Feiras looked outside the window and saw the moon and the stars shining tall above them and then sighed. "It's late," she said. "We should go to sleep. Tomorrow we'll have to wake up soon."

"Why?"

"Don't question me," she reprimanded, but there was no sharpness in her voice. "Just go to sleep. I'll come wake you up himself." She made to go to her chambers, but instead she stopped mid-step and turned toward him. "Goodnight," she said, and then she flew away before he could say goodnight back.

Hours later Kyril woke with pain in his chest and his body on fire. His senses warned him of an imminent threat, but when he looked around his chamber in search of an intruder and checked the library and the main corridor he found nobody. He thought it a nightmare and turned back to return to his room but as he did so he passed in front of Feiras' chambers and heard sobs coming from inside. The door was slightly open, so he pressed his hand against the wood and pushed it open.

Feiras was in the darkest corner of the room, curled up on herself as the sobs shook her body. She was crying. In all the years Kyril had spent with her he had never seen her cry. When he came in she raised her head and looked at him, her wet eyes narrowed and her beak slightly open as if about to attack him.

"What are you doing here?" she said. "Who said you could come in?"

"The door was open. What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong. Go away."

"But you're crying," he said. "Heavens above Feiras, I've never - "

Feiras swatted her wing toward him and a blast of wind as strong as a hurricane threw him out of the room. He pulled himself up in an instant but as he did so the door to Feiras chamber snapped shut.

"Feiras," he said. "Feiras, let me in. I only want to talk."

No answer came. "

Please, tell me what's wrong with you," he said. "I can help you."

Still no answer. He waited long to hear her voice or for the door to unlock but no voice came and the door stayed shut. He could have just thrown it down, but that would have been a breach of privacy and trust and Feiras would've never forgiven him for it. In the end he admitted defeat and went back to his chambers and started to read again.

***

The boy saw the sad girl one cool night at the end of summer. She was a fresh young thing, no more than ten, and shouldn't have been out there all alone. She sat down on the rocky edge of a pound and threw rocks in the water. She'd been sitting here for hours and nobody had come to her yet. She wore a long frilly white dress, the dress of those who follow the Faith, but her mind did not feel poisoned by the teaching of the Whore Mother yet. He climbed down the hill he stood on and went to her. When she saw him she stopped throwing rocks and stood up. Her hands ran to her chest and she took a step back.

"It's alright," he said. "I don't want to hurt you. I saw you there and wanted to say hi."

She nodded. "I've never seen you around here before," she said. "You're from Daffiel?"

"Me and my family arrived a few days ago," he said. "We're still sorting things out, so we haven't been out much. "He lowered his head on the dress. "You're covered in mud."

"I know, she said, and let out a choked sob. "We were doing Mass, but then the Maeter said I did something wrong and slapped me."

"And now you're here? All alone?"

"It happens often," she said. "Something bad happens, I can't do anything but run away. Everybody says I'm a coward and they're right." She sat back down at the edge of the pond. "Someday I like to think I'll run away and never return."

"Will you?"

"Probably not," she said. "But I like to think about it."

He sat next to her. "Your Maeter sounds like a pain in the ass," he said.

The girl sniffed, then nodded. "She says if I go on like this, I'll never be able to master aether," she said. "Some of my friends can already do simple miracles, like healing things. I can't even do that. No matter how hard I concentrate."

"Well," he said. "I know something about magic, and I can tell you not everybody learns the same way, or at the same time. Some must wait more than others."

She looked at him, eyes wide with incredulity. "You know about magic?"

"A little bit."

"But... but you don't seem like a follower of the Mother."

"There are many gods who looks at us from the heavens," he said. "The Allmother is just one of them, and not even the most powerful."

She seemed put off by his affirmation. To her it must have sounded like heresy. She recovered fast thought. "Then who do you pray to?"

He shook his head. "Better I don't tell you, "He said. "Magic is dangerous, and names are more dangerous still."

"But can't you teach me something?" she said. "Something easy. Some stupid trick so that my friends will stop making fun of me."

He pretended to think about it. "Are you sure that's what you want?" he said. "I told you magic can be dangerous. Painful."

The girl trembled, but she stayed determined. "It's fine," she said. "Just teach me something simple. I can take it."

The boy pulled the knife out. It was his favorite one, the one he'd stolen from the countess. It was old and chipped at the edges, but the blade was as sharp as ever. A faint aura of aether surrounded it and he knew it had once been magic, which made it a great conductor. The moment the girl saw it she jumped back. "What are you doing?" she cried. "That's dangerous!" "

I told you it would be, didn't I?" he said. "Besides, it's not for you, it's for me."

Her golden eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

He didn't answer. Instead he laid the knife against the palm of his hand and closed his eyes. "I forfeit the control of my body to the Lady of Chalices, and lend my flesh to her," he said, and plunged the blade so deep in the hand it almost went through. The girl screamed again.

"What did you do!" she yelled. "You've hurt yourself! Quick, we must call - "

"We must call nobody," he said. Calm and collected he pulled the knife out of his hand, and the moment that the blade left contact with his skin the wound started to heal. Nerves twitched and reconnected themselves to each other, skin sew itself back together. What few blood managed to escape his body evaporated before touching the ground. "See?" he said. "It's all right now."

The girl stared at him, stupefied. "That was incredible!" she said. "How did you - not even the maeter could do something like that so fast. How did you do it?"

"Come here and I'll show you."

Once again, the girl looked worried. He was starting to lose his patience, but he had to be careful. If he slipped now, it would all be for nothing. "Come on, you saw me do it. It is completely fine."

"I don't know," she said, her gaze on the town. "Maybe I should call my Maeter - "

"What for?" he said. "Being told you're a failure once again, and a heretic too?"

She trembled a bit again and looked back at him. "Are you going to do that to me?"

"If you want to learn my magic, you must do like I do. That's how it works."

She bit her lower lip. "Will it hurt?"

"Yes, but only for a little." He smiled. "Come on. Sit down with me."

She sat down and offered him her hand. Smart girl, but not smart enough. "Now saw it with me", he said. "'I forfeit the control of my body to the Lady of Chalices and lend all my flesh to her."

"What does that mean?" she asked. "Who's the Lady of the Chalices?"

"Nobody. It's just how the formula works. Now say it."

"But..."

"You want to learn magic or not?" he said, his voice rough.

For a moment there was silence. Then the girl took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "I forfeit the control of my body to the lady of Chalices and lend all my flesh to her."

"Good," he said, and then grabbed the knife's handle with both hands and buried it in the girl's throat. It went through her neck from side to side, trachea and jugular cut off at the same, immediately followed the occipital bone, and the girl barely had the time to widen her eyes before she fell on the ground dead. The blood pooled around her head and contrasted with her beautiful blonde head.

The boy pulled the knife out and licked it clean and then put it back under his clothes. The girl was young and healthy, but she'd said the words without much conviction and already she was starting to deteriorate. With the speed of a desperate man he tore off her clothes and underwear and started to tear her apart. First he ate the breasts and the ovaries, then cut her lower belly and gorged himself on her intestines and colon. He split her torso in half and dug in with both hands to rip out the lungs and the liver and the stomach. He bashed her head in with a stone again and again and drunk the red and gray goop that leaked from the hole as if it were fresh water from a fountain. Last was the heart, so fresh and rich: he grabbed it with one hand and opened his mouth and swallowed it whole. He almost chocked on it but the sensation of the organ sliding down his throat and then nestling in his gust along with the rest of her was so pleasurable he almost orgasmed right there and then. He thought about eating her eyes too, but there was no need for it. Already he felt stronger and smarter, mightier, all the knowledge of the girl now inside his head. How many tricks had they tried to teach her, how many had she been too stupid to master. "Thank you, my lady," he said. In the end he ate her eyes anyway and flew into the woods, a smile on his bloodied face and the knife clinking under his clothes.

***

Lorrain and Father Duncan arrived right after she'd finished the milking. The sun was getting lower and the temperature was falling so when she heard Lorrain's distinctive knock on her door she stuffed her breasts back under her clothes and ran to open the door. Two human faces covered in snow looked back at her.

"Quick, quick, come in," Mikalea said as she moved aside. "You should have come earlier. This has all the signs of being an awful night."

"Let's hope it's not the usual kind of awful," Lorrain said as she came in. "At least the moon's not full yet."

Father Duncan murmured a thank you and lowered his head as she did the same, but he said nothing else. He'd always been a taciturn man, especially around her. She'd never had any real problems with him and he treated all the non-human inhabitants of the towns with the same amount of respect as the human ones, except when talking. Maybe they just intimidated him.

Lorrain and Duncan took off their fur coats and sat at the kitchen's table. "You want something to drink?" Mikalea said. "I have tea, coffee..." she smiled. "I also have a four fresh gallons of milk just spilled, if you'd like. Don't make compliments."

Lorrain let out a chuckle. "I think I'll take the tea."

"Nothing for me," said Duncan.

She shrugged and went to fetch the tea. She made one cup for her and one for Lorrain and then sat back in her chair. Lorrain blew on hers make it less scalding, but minotaur tongues were made of sterner stuff and she drunk half of if in one sip without trouble.

"It always makes my throat hurt when I see you do that," Lorrain said. "It's like temperature doesn't mean anything to you."

"If temperature didn't mean anything for me you'd see me outside, taking care of the garden." She chuckled. "What about you? How's the mayor of Ribia doing lately? Nobody ever sees you in the streets anymore."

"Nobody sees anybody in the streets anymore," she said. "Not that you can blame them." She paused to take a sip of tea. "The Peregrins are leaving."

"Are they?"

"Oh yes. Came to me this morning. 'Sorry missus, we ain't feeling too sure about hanging around the place anymore.' They'll be out by tomorrow morning. Doubt they'll come back."

Mikalea nodded. "Weren't the first, won't be the last," she said. "Everybody is sure one of their pups will be next. Too many children in houses not close enough to the town, just like the Wyllorn. I told those poor souls to move closer years ago, but they refused. I said 'there's safety in the herd' and they laughed and told me to graze the grass." She let out a bitter laughter. "May they rest in peace, as humans say." She turned toward Father Duncan. Are you sure you don't want anything, Father? To drink or to eat?"

"I'm quite fine as I am, thank you," he said. "And I'm not really in the mood of light talk about the sons and daughters of the Allmother who have been slaughtered by unknown forces. The only thing I want to know is why you called us here today."

Lorrain put a hand on Father Duncan's shoulder. "Calm down, father" Lorrain said. "Nobody is making light talk of anybody here. A bit of conversation has never hurt anyone, am I right Mika?"

Mikalea finished her tea and shook her head. "No, Father Duncan is right," she said. "This is a serious matter and it must be treated seriously. That's why I called you here." She refilled her cup and took a deep breath. "I make no promises, but I believe I might have a solution to our trouble."

"Yeah, moving away with the Peregrins," Lorrain said. "That's what everybody will do eventually. And then we'll all die of cold, because the nearest town is about half a thousand miles from here." She drunk some more tea. "Still, freezing to death is still a better alternative to being eaten alive, if you ask me."

"This is not the time for jesting, Lorrain," Duncan said. He looked at Mikalea. "I say the same thing for you. If you're joking - "

"Never been more serious in my life," Mikalea said. "Listen to me. Whatever it is that is preying on us cannot be slain by our hands, and with all due respect to Father Duncan, praying to the Allmother will not help us unless she materializes in our town one day and kills the bloody thing herself."

"I will not accept - "

"You may not accept, but it's the truth," Mikalea said. "We're dying out there, and religion tells us wait for the help of the gods while the empire tries its best to forget we even exists. We need to do something."

"Speak, then," Lorrain said, one eyebrow raised. "How do you intend to save us? Grab a Warhammer and solve the problem yourself?"

Mikalea huffed. "I'm afraid my warrior days are far behind me, and there they will remain. But I know something who could take care of it."

"Are we talking about mercenaries, or monster hunters?" Lorrain said. "Because if we had the money to hire them I would have done it myself."

"No mercenaries. Just a friend who could help us."

"And who is this friend?"

"His name is Kyril," she said. "He's a dragon."

"A dragon?" Duncan said, his eyes wide under the hood. "You want to bring a dragon into our flock?"

"Your flock, Father," Mikalea said. "I don't worship the Allmother more than I worship the Stillborn. What I'm talking about has nothing to do with faith, there are no religious games being played here. Whatever evil god you think created the dragons, it's fair to say that having one at your side in a time of crisis is a good thing."

"And how do you know this won't make things worse?" he said. "Having two beasts to take care of instead of one? How do you know it's not a dragon eating our people and impaling their bodies on trees for all to see?"

"Dragons don't waste their time eating one peasant at once," she said. "If a dragon wants to kill you, they burn your house down and eat the townsfolk by the dozen. You don't - "

"Mikalea, Duncan, please," Lorrain said. "Let's quiet down for a moment." She turned over to Mikalea. "Tell us about this dragon. When did you met him? How did you came to know him?

Mikalea sighed. "It was about thirty or forty years ago," she said. "I was still an adventurer then. I had a job to do in a forest near Gillipsia. Some trouble with a bunch of gnolls who had decided to make things difficult for merchants and travelers who passed by. When I arrived I happened to find him as he took care of a group of them - they got too close to the city, and I guess he did not like it. He took care of them almost by himself. He was little more than a hatchling mind you, but by the gods could he bite. All I did was bush a couple skulls in, the rest was all his doing.

"How many did he kill?" Lorrain said.

"Twelve by my count."

"Gods above," she said. "How did you befriend him?"

"Wasn't difficult. He saw me kill a couple and deduced we had to be on the same side. He trotted to me with a smile on his snout, caked in gore from head to toe like it was nothing, and told me his name. I told him mine and he offered me to take him to his lair - this sunken temple whose name I don't remember, built as a gift for a god that everybody forgot. I expected him to find his parents inside, but instead all I saw was an old phoenix who looked at me like I'd just made my way inside the temple by force. Kyril told her what had happened with the gnolls and what I'd done to help him, and then he asked her if I could stay for a little. He'd never seen a minotaur before. The phoenix - Feiras was her name, I think - let me, but only to make him happy. I suspect if it had been for her she'd have thrown me out the moment she saw me."

"How long did you stay with them?"

"A few months. Kyril had started to learn how to fight only a couple years before, that's nothing for a dragon. He asked to show me how minotaurs fight. We trained together for a while and even had a couple of sparring matches, but it wasn't long before I couldn't keep up with him anymore. He liked me though, a lot. Don't know why exactly. When I left he made me promise I would come back, and I did, a couple of times. The last he was as big as a horse. I told him I was going to leave that part of Treguria for a while, and he made me swear we would see again, and to call him if I ever needed help with something." She sighed. "To be honest, I never though I'd honor his requests, but here I am." She spread her arms. "In my opinion, that's the only option we have left."

"You said you met him thirty years ago," Lorrain said. "Would he even remember you?"

"Thirty years are like twelve for a dragon. I suppose he must be a young drake by now, on his way to become a mature adult if he isn't one already - don't remember how many winters he had seen at the time exactly. I'm sure he remembers me, and I'm sure he remembers the promises me wade to each other. If I called, he would come."

Lorrain took a moment before speaking again. "If this is true, why are you only talking about this now?"

"Because I know every folk in this backwash town would piss their pants if they learnt a dragon was coming here," she said, and pointed at Duncan. "Father has proved it all too well five minutes ago."

"Dragons are beasts," Duncan said. "Barely conscious, barely able to speak. I could never put the fate of our town in their hands." He huffed. "More and more people are coming to church lately, to pray and ask for protection from the Allmother and the other gods of light. This is how we will defeat the monster, not with some other animal crawling around in the dark."

"Luckily for us, the choice is not yours," Lorrain said. She glared at Mikalea. "Are you sure he'd be willing to help us? Dragon or not, thirty years is a lot of time for people to change. What if he wants a reward we cannot give, and decides to take it by having his way with our women?"

Mikalea laughed. "Considering most human women would die at the first thrust, I doubt he'd be attracted to that idea. Just let me speak to him, and I'm sure I can convince him to come here by the next week."

Lorrain's eyebrows furrowed. "How do you count on delivering a message and have him here in only a few days?"

"Magic, of course" Duncan said, his eyes narrowed. "The light of the Allmother shines further and further away from us."

"The light of the Allmother has shone far away from Ribia for some time now," Mikalea said. "When the gods don't help you, help yourself. That's what my mother taught me."

Duncan turned toward Lorrain. "And you? Do you agree with this?"

"I don't seem to have much choice," she said. "It'll take some time convincing the townsfolk, but It's either this or trying to move to the nearest town, which would kill the most of us anyway."

"Very well. If this is the folly you have chosen to do, I have no way of stopping you." He stood up and grabbed his fur coat. "I tell you one thing though: if the dragon puts his feet on the town's ground, things will only get worse."

"We'll take our chances," Mikalea said, but before he could end the sentence Duncan opened the door and left.

Silence fell in the room. Mikalea stood up to make more tea. When it was done he refilled their cups and sat back to the table. They sipped at it, silent still, until Lorrain raised her eyes on her.

"Do you really think he will help us?"

Mikalea nodded. "He will," she said. "I'm sure of it."

"Why?"

"Because dragons always honor their promises," she said. "And also because if that phoenix has raised him right, he won't like the idea of someone strong playing with the weak like this monster is doing with us."

Lorrain nodded. She finished her drink and stood up. "Alright," she said. "I think it's time I leave, too."

"Are you sure? It's late, and it's cold outside," she said. "You're welcome to stay the night if you want."

"I appreciate the offer, but I have business to do;" Lorrain said. She grabbed her coat and opened the door just enough not to let the snow in. "Goodnight, Mikalea. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight," Mikalea said. The door opened and closed, and then she was gone.

For a long time Mikalea did nothing but sit and drink tea. When the tea was fimished and she didn't want to make anymore she went into her room and closed the door behind her. She turned off any source of light and clasped her hands as if for praying.

"Fisk, I call you from my sacred place," she said. "I call with urgent need. I need your help." For a few moments nothing happened. Then, out of nothing, a blue fire appeared. It was small at first, but second by second it kept getting bigger and bigger until it was the size of her head. It shook and trembled as if hit by a gust of wind, then fluctuated closer to Mikalea and turned yellow.

"Oh, damn," Fisk said. "It's only you, thank the stars. I was afraid some sorcerer in training had fucked up the spell for summoning succubi again."

"What moron would try to summon a succubus?"

"A horny one, I'd say," Fisk said, "and one that has not studied his demonology books. What's the deal, big girl?"

"You know a monster is preying on the town," she said. "I need you to go to the old temple at Gillipsia and tell Kyril about it."

"Kyril?" he said. "You mean the little gecko we met like thirty years ago?"

"He'll be thirty years older now," she said. "Maybe he won't solve the problem, but it will be one more sword by our side."

"What if I don't find him at the temple?"

"Then find him wherever he is and bring him here. Do it as quickly as possible - too many people are dead already."

Fisk's flame fluttered. "Alright then, I can't say no to that. Give me two or three days and you'll have your dragon."

"I'll take it as a promise," she said. "Now go, with my blessing."

Fisk's flame fluttered and shook once again, and though it did not diminish in intensity it started getting smaller and smaller until it disappeared into a puff of smoke. Mikalea took a sigh, made sure every entrance to her door was locked, took off her clothes and put herself to bed. She could hear her mother's voice as it told her to wash herself first, but what would be the point? She'd done nothing but stay home all day, and the only stains on her body were milk. She turned on her left side and waited for sleep to get her, but by the gods, it did not come.

***

He stood on the edge of a cliff made of burned flesh and splintered bones and stared up at a white sun in the black sky and marveled at the thought the sky still existed. Creatures from his deepest nightmares hunted the dark, things with beaks and tentacles and arms, too many arms, and legs and tails and heads. Below him an ocean of blood boiled like tar under the uncaring black. For centuries he inhabited alone that death empty world, until one second of one minute of one hour of something that could not be called a day a hand rose above the red ocean. A head followed it: it had no eyes and no nose and no mouth but it screamed and what it screamed was his name. He was followed by another, then a third and a fourth, until so many hands and so many heads reached from the ocean that he could not count them anymore. They all screamed his name and called for his help. "Help us," they said. "We love you. We love you. Please save us."

"No," he said, and that was it.

***

When Kyril woke up it was hot in the cave, like first summer. He stood up and shook himself awake and walked out to see the sky was still dark, the sun not yet over the horizon. Feiras had said she would wake him up herself but she was nowhere to be found, so he hunted for two. He got another bear for himself and a deer for her. He carried the deer back to the temple on his shoulder, and on his way back he noticed some humans staring at him. Two of them, a male and a female, a woman and her kid. They stared at him from behind a rock with wide eyes and open mouths and muttered something to each other he was too far away to understand. He roared at them and then laughed as they ran back to Gillipsia. screaming their heads of. Kyril let out a chuckle and went on toward the temple. When he arrived he found Feiras waiting for him at the doors of the temple. She stood still as a statue against the wind and looked at him with narrowed eyes, her expression a mask of stone. He wondered if he should ask her about the night before but decided that if she had said nothing then she would not do it now. "I brought you breakfast," he said.

"I'll have it later," she said. "We have more urgent matter to deal with right now."

"What kind of matter?"

"Life or death matter."

"Fucking hells," he said. "Can't leave this place a minute without everything going to shit."

Feiras moved her beak. Kyril had spent almost his entire life with her and he still couldn't tell if she was smiling or scoffing. "This is not the moment for jokes," she said, but her tone didn't fully convince him. "We have a guest."

"The humans from the city have finally decided to worship me as nature intended?"

"A wisp has come to our temple, and his mistress asks for help," she said. "As I said, this is a matter of life or death. You will be respectful and only speak when required." She gave him his back. "The wisp is in the old tower. Follow me." She spread her wings and flew away, and he went with her.

They found the wisp flying in circles around the top of the tower. They landed near the temple bell and he stopped and floated toward them, his flame trembling and shaking in the dark as if the wind were disrupting it. "Finally, I couldn't wait anymore," he said. "Having nothing to do always makes me go stir-crazy."

"We apologize for the wait," Feiras said. "My protect woke up early than usual and decided to go hunting before it was time."

The wisp sent out a few sparks toward her and then his flame rotated towards him. "So, you are the famous Kyril. I've got to say you don't match my expectations."

"Sorry to disappoint you. I'll spend the night weeping in anguish and pissing myself from the shame."

Feiras gave him a venomous look. "Kyril -"

"It's alright, it's alright," the wisp said. "A dragon without some spirit is not a dragon. Tell me, what is your true name?"

"Why would I tell you that?"

"Because I'm about to tell you mine, and a wisp never says his true name first. It is the one privilege we have over those who still own flesh."

Kyril grunted. "I don't know my true name. I don't have a family nor a clan I could refer you to. You can ask Feiras if you want, maybe my mother managed to whisper it to her while she died."

Feiras trembled. The wisp turned toward her and she shook her head. "Kyril's dam passed on silence, when he was only and egg," she said. "If someone who still lives knows his true name, I cannot tell."

The wisp sighed. "Alright then. I will call you Kyril, young dragon, and you will call me Fisk. My mistress, Mikalea of the Mitosha nomads, send me to tell -"

"Mikalea? He said. "You mean Mikalea the minotaur, from thirty winters ago?"

"Thirty-three winters," Feiras said. "What happened to her?"

"To her, nothing," Fisk said. "It's the town she lives, Ribia, that's in the in deep shit. A few moons ago the townsfolk found the body of a boy impaled on the branch of a devil tree, but he did not die like that. Some waste of purulent shit had eaten him from the inside out first, like a gods-damned shrimp. Could hardly recognize his face anymore. The next moon, little more than two weeks ago, they found two more corpses hanging from the same tree - adults, except this time even the bones were gone. Just bunches of skin and cartilage dangling from a spiky branch."

"Damn thing only eats the good bits," Kyril said. "Something is praying on your townsfolk, Something intelligent, too. If it were an animal it would just throw the bodies away, but instead it puts them where everybody can see them so the folks stay scared. Strange," he paused. "Why don't you simply leave the damned place?"

"Ribia is an old town, with poor folks who have nowhere else to go," Fisk said, "and even if it weren't so, many of the inhabitants are too young, too old or too infirm to travel through the snow for days and days. The family of the first victim tried to leave the town a few days after the event and we found their bodies half eaten by the direwolf three weeks later,"

"Shitty place to live," Kyril said. "What do you want us to do?"

"What do we want you to do," Fisk said. "Mikalea asked specifically for your help. She said you promised her that if she were ever in a time of need, you'd find a way to help her. I suppose the time of need is now. Will you help us?"

"But my rite of passage - "

"It will still be here to wait when you come back," Feiras said. "This is more important."

"If you say so, "he said, and looked at Fisk. "Which way for Ribia?"

"North-East, right at the roots of the mountains that separate Treguria from East Riedanya."

"Almost four-thousand miles," Kyril said. "If I leave now, I can be there by mid-noon."

"Hold on there," Fisk said. "You expect me to travel by day? Do you want to see me dead?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm a wisp, you moron. I'm light given consciousness. You put me next to a candle, my light spreads to the candle's flame, and it hurts. Now imagine what could happen in full daylight."

"I could go by myself," he said. "I have a good sense of direction."

Fisk made a sound like laughter. "Please. Ribia is a spit of civilization surrounded by wilderness. You'd lose less time waiting for us to leave today at midnight than you would by leaving and searching for the place by yourself."

"So what in the nine hells do we do?"

"You wait," Feiras said. "You eat a lot and sleep, if you're smart. You don't know what you'll be fighting, so you must be at your best. Tonight you'll leave with Fisk and deal with this matter."

"Why don't you come with me?" Kyril said. "If we helped them together, we'd solve the problem in the span of a day."

Feiras glared at him, her feathers ruffled. "Mikalea asked for your help, not mine," she said. "You're honor-bound to answer her call, but I will not sneak myself into this business. It wouldn't be respectful neither for you nor for her."

"What about the dead people in Ribia?" he said. "You think it would be respectful for them?"

"The people of Ribia are none of my business," she said, but there was a crack on her voice that told him the ice in it was not real. "Now, if you excuse me, it's time I go meditate." He glared at him. Her body were still trembling. "I'll be in my chambers. Do not disturb me for any reason. Is that clear?"

"Crystal."

She spread her wings and left, Kyril's eyes following her as she landed on her chambers' balcony. Once she went in Fisk turned toward him. "Gods be damned, that is one though bitch if I've ever seen one. Is she always like that?"

"No," Kyril said. "Most times she is worse." He looked at Fisk. "So, what do we do now?"

"Oh, you can do whatever you want. I'm going to sleep, and I'm not waking up before midnight at least. What's the darkest room in the temple?"

"I suppose the cells the monks used to meditate would be fit for the role. There are stairs right behind the broken altar, you just need to follow the corridor."

"Thank you," he said. Then he left too.

Kyril was alone now. He often had no idea what to do in the silence of the temple when he didn't have to train or hunt or study, but rarely did he ever feel as useless as he felt now. He ate the deer that he'd brought for Feiras, then went hunting and caught a manticore. He ate it even though he didn't want to, purely keep his body healthy and ready for action. Then he went to his room, folded his wings over himself and went back to sleep.

/

It seldom happened that a dragon was taken by surprise, but that night when Feiras came into his chambers he only realized someone had come inside when he heard the door close, and only realized it was her when the feathers of her wings started reflecting the pale moonlight on the floor. He watched her inch closer and closer, step by step, like a bird of prey approaching her victim. He stayed silent all the while, and when she was right above him and tried to ask what she wanted and what she was doing in his room she raised a feet and wrapped his snout in her talons. Her glistering sex came into his view, a tiny slit that leaked juices along her stocky thighs like twin fountains. His eyes widened.

"Don't speak. We don't have time to talk," she said, her voice low. "Roll on your back."

She let go of his snout and he obeyed. Wordless and soundless she threw herself over him. She sat on his legs and encased his groin with her thighs. His cock was already out of his sheath half hard, and no amount of surprise or shock caused by seeing his master and adoptive mother of more than thirty years riding him could stop it from growing even more, a column of virility so tall it reached her feathered chest. She looked at it without any emotion on her face, ran first one wing along the length and then another. When his seed started oozing from the gargantuan organ she curved down to lick it. Her tongue was small and rough and it almost made it moan, but only almost. If she were to remain stone-like no matter what would happen, so would he.

She took him in both her wings and started stroking him. His length was ribbed and crested and full of knobs and her feathers kept getting stuck to them but she didn't ever stop. Even when her plumage was ruined and her wings were covered in cum she kept going, bringing him as close to an orgasm as she possibly could. He could feel her secretions run down his legs and balls, more and more copious as she went at it. The more vigor she put in her movement the more he wondered if what she was doing was out of affection or simply to satisfy an urge, or maybe something else. When he was hard as a rock and glistening with fluids and she was covered herself in come and her wings were ruined she stood up on her legs and positioned her opening straight over the towering length of his cock. He looked him in the eyes for only a moment before she closed and sunk her cunt on it, down and down until her lips touched the roots of his length, and there they remained.

Kyril's words went blank. It was not his first time with a female but it was his first time with a phoenix and it was obvious that she was to small for him. She was like a wet pulsing glove and it tightened around him with every movement either of them made. He could feel every crevice of her, could sense every pulse of her heart as her cunt pulsed with it. He clenched his teeth and let out a growl, and that was the only sound he let escape his lips. Then she started to ride him.

It was not gentle. It was not kind. It was hard and merciless, and yet he couldn't bring himself to say it was loveless. There was love and attachment and a need to fulfill a duty or a need too long delayed, and as she impaled herself on him over and over again and the combined essence of their sexes squirted and spurted and sprayed above and all around them he could tell she did this because she had to, but also because she wanted to. He didn't know which one pulled more than the other, but both were there and he could understand them.

She came first, as he barely started to feel the need building up inside him. A squirt of juices spurted out of her so violently that he saw and felt the liquid spray over his chest and neck and muzzle, but she did not stop. The need in him grew and grew with each powerful squat of her trembling thighs and when she finally found herself reduced to a shaking mess of feathers and their combined essence and she could barely keep on her feet he came too.

His seed sprung out of his cock and flooded her in the blink of an eye, swelling her belly and forcing one thrill out of her beak as if to pair up with his own growl. She climaxed again then, as the flood pushed itself out of the sides of her slit and splattered over him and the pavement and the wall she now leaned against. Her legs gave up as they both still came and she fell on him with all her weight, her chest against his and his wings over his shoulders. Their orgasms went on for minutes yet, and when hers finished his kept going. She let him do, her body trembling as the seed poured inside her in endless waves. He kept his teeth clenched from start to finish and when it finally ended he relaxed his arms and let them fall over the ground. He had not realized it, but as they rutted he had grabbed her by the hips and hadn't ever let her go.

They stayed there, in the dark, still as statues and breathing as if after a brutal battle. He almost though she intended to sleep him, and he would have welcomed it, but eventually she struggled up in a sitting position, got off of him and somehow found balance on her trembling legs. She breathed in the air of the night for a few moments more, then glared at him.

"Now you are a true dragon," she said. She jumped out of the window and flew away.

***

Somewhere, a child cried. His mother turned on the light, and he cried harder.

***

Fisk appeared in his room only a few hours later. Kyril still lay as he did, still covered in fluids, and he stared at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes and a hand over his forehead. The little ball of light moved toward him. "Hello, mate? You awake yet?" he said. "Holy shit, you smell like a brothel."

"I had a whore come over."

"Really? I didn't see anyone." The wisp shook in confusion. "Whatever, it doesn't matter. Come on, wash yourself and come down. It's past midnight and we need to move as quick as possible if we want to reach Ribia before dawn."

He didn't answer. He stood up and threw himself out of the window. Fisk followed him as he fell into a deep pond right below his window. He remained underwater long enough to scrub himself clean and resurfaced. Fisk whistled.

"Damn," he said. "So that's why you chose to sleep in that room. You throw yourself out of the window and then you're as clean as a baby's ass. Are we ready now? Can we go?"

"One moment," he said. "I need to say goodbye to Feiras."

He found her in the room of the altar. She stood in front of the white idol, a giant stone phoenix contraposed to a small golden one. He walked until there were only a few feet between the two of them.

"I'm leaving with Fisk," he said.

"Good," she said.

"Yes, good," he repeated. One moment of silence passed between them, and then: "So?"

"So what?" she said. She did not turn to look at him.

"I think you have something to tell me."

"You think wrong. All I had to say I already said it." She looked outside the glass window of the hall. "It's half past one. You should go now, or you'll be late."

Kyril stayed silent for a long time. "Look at me."

"I don't take orders from you."

"Feiras, look at me. Now."

She did so. Their eyes locked onto each other. He took a step forward and she took a step backward.

"What happened before," he said. "What did it mean?"

"You know what it means already," she said. "I told you so. If you think there were other ends to my actions, that is up to you to decide."

"Bullshit."

"You're free to think as you wish."

He turned on his feet and started walking outside the hall, feet stomping so hard they cracked the ground. He was almost out when he turned his head back, a snarl on his muzzle. "When I come back we will speak of this in depth, and no amount of mystical phoenix horseshit is going to save you from that, nor your role in my life, whatever the hell it may be. Have I made myself clear?"

"You have," she said, impassible. "Now go."

Fisk waited for him at the end of the path, right where the road split into two. "Mate, you got a face like it's your funeral," he said. "None of my business though. Are we ready to go?"

"Yes," he said. "Yes, we're ready to go."

"Finally. Was starting to fell asleep again," Fisk said. He floated up in the sky, and Kyril watched him grow smaller and smaller until he too spread his wings and joined him amongst the clouds.

CHAPTER 2

They waited for him on a hill at the borders of Ribia, with the wind blowing through their hair and the snow falling softly around them like rose petals. Mikalea had dressed in her old warrior clothes, but she'd brought no weapons - it was merely a way for him to make sure he recognized her. Lorrain had dressed in leather and fur, and she wore a sword at her side and a rifle on her back. The law of Ribia said every stranger had to be welcomed like that by the mayor, but she doubted her attire would leave any impression on Kyril. She doubted he would notice at all.

"What is he like?" she asked, her voice low.

"I already told you," Mikalea said. "He was a nice little drake, maybe a bit cheeky but nothing more than that. I wouldn't have asked for his help otherwise."

"I mean physically," she said. "What does he look like?"

Mikalea shrugged. "It's been a while since I've seen him. Last time he was the size of a horse - nine feet long, almost six feet at the withers. Red scales, green eyes. Nice long muzzle. Very handsome, even for a dragon."

"You would call a dragon handsome?"

"All dragons are attractive in their own way, and if an ugly dragon exists then I've never met them." Mikalea said. "I suppose you'll see that very soon."

They waited in silence for while more, until the first sliver of light raised over the mountains and the yellow rays of the sun turned the night into day. Only then the dragon appeared, first as a little blot of red in the sky and then as a more clear-shaped figure the closer it got to them. When he landed before them it was with the strength of a rock falling through the sky and Mikalea could hear the ground crack below the thick layer of snow.

"Shit, this place is hell to find," he said as he looked around himself. His eyes fell on Mikalea. "Damn it, Mika," he said with a smirk. "You haven't aged a day."

But he had, and by a lot. He was still the Kyril she remembered in the first days, his voice impossible to confuse, but physically he was another dragon. Over seven feet tall at the withers and twelve feet long at least, he towered over Mikalea's eight feet of height like a monument and all but eclipsed Lorrain. His red scales shone like blood red diamonds and his eyes were greener than emeralds. His white horns were longer than hers and straight like arrows. He was not the bulky mass of muscle that she had imagined him to grow in, but he was streamlined, the muscle dense and rippling like water under his scales. By the gods, did that leave an impression on her. Lorrain must have thought otherwise though, because the moment she gave him a good look she doubled down and threw up. Kyril eyes widened in surprise and turned toward Mikalea.

"Excuse her," she said. "It's the first time she sees a dragon." She put a hand over Lorrain's shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," she said among the gasps. "By the gods, my stomach feels like a dried plump..."

"Meeting a dragon for the first time causes different effects in different people." Mikalea said. "Some cry, some vomit, some pass out. It's your brain that refuses to accept what it is seeing as real. All in all, you got a good deal."

Lorrain wiped her mouth and looked at the dragon. He was looking at her too and when their eyes crossed Mikalea was sure she would throw up again, but she did not. Good for her. She turned toward Kyril.

"Kyril," she said. "It's nice to see you after all this time." She patted Lorrain's shoulder. "This is Lorrain, Ribia's mayor. We've come to welcome you in the town."

"Good idea not to do to it in the main square," Kyril said. "Imagine having to clean up the place after a thousand people threw up on it."

"I wish there were a thousand people in Ribia," Lorrain said, her throat still chocked.

"That so? How many are you?"

"Little less than five hundred."

"Then it's no wonder this monster of yours choose this place as its playground," he said. "A small town with few people, unlikely to receive external help - you're an invite to any intelligent predator to make you all part of the menu."

"This is no place to discuss these things," Lorrain said. "We should go to the Town Hall."

"The rooms are too small for Kyril," Mikalea said. "My house is a better fit for him, and closer."

"Am I going to make somebody else throw up along the way?"

Lorrain coughed out the last remnants of bile and shook her head. "It's too soon for most of the townsfolk to have woken," she said. "Almost everybody tends to stay inside until the sun is fully up. We'll be fine."

They climbed down the hill and moved toward Ribia. Kyril kept looking around himself to become accustomed to his surroundings like the predator he was and even Mikaela couldn't help but feel nervous staying around him. By the gods, how big he had become.

"Do you want to eat something?" Mika asked, her voice uncertain. "When we reach my place, I mean. You must be hungry after such a long journey."

"I ate along the way, thank you."

"What about Fisk?"

"He disappeared into a puff of smoke the moment the first rays of the sun started to show up." He let out a mirthless laughter. "Strange guy. I'd like to talk to him again sometimes."

They reached Ribia and then moved toward Mikalea's home. The place matched the rest of the town - a building made of old wood and dirty windows, with a sloping roof who was in urgent need or reparations, except twice bigger than the biggest building in town, church and Town Hall excluded. Kyril did not seem impressed. "You people need a good carpenter," he said. Neither Lorrain nor Mikalea answered.

They went in - Kyril had to do a lot of squeezing to get through the door - and Mikalea brought them in the her room. Minotaurs were usually nomads and they liked to live and sleep in large places: Mikalea was no exception, so her room was bigger than any other in her house. Kyril could sit in it with his back straight.

"Here we are," Mika said as she sat on the bed. Lorrain quickly followed.

"You are the ones in charge of the town? Make decision for it?" Kyril asked.

"Us and the church parish, Father Duncan," Lorrain sighed. "He didn't like the idea of a dragon helping us, so he chose to have nothing to do with it. Still, two votes against one."

"Right." Kyril once again started to look around himself like a hawk. "Religion and my kin never went well together anyway." He turned towards them. "What am I working with?"

"What?"

"This creature of yours. Tell me what you know."

"Nothing but the fact that it prays on children and young adults and then hangs their corpses to the branches of the devil's three."

"You mean those big trees full of spines?" Mika nodded and he huffed. "Good choice. If I wanted to keep a town scared shitless I would do that too. What about the state of the corpses?"

"The first one was eaten from the inside, like a shrimp," Mika said. "For what concerns the second and the third, the creature only left the skin. Everything else was gone."

"Even the bones?"

"Everything, yes."

"Alright," he said. "So we know this beast hunts at night, and that it prefers children and young adults. We know it's smart, because no stupid animal would hang a prey after eating. It wants you to be as scared as possible. It want's you to know it will hit again." He paused. "How long ago did you say it started?"

"At the beginning of winter, more or less," Lorrain said, and Mika nodded.

"Any signs something bad was coming?"

"Not that we noticed."

"Fisk said leaving is not an option. Is that true?"

"For most of us, yes," Lorrain said. "We have nowhere to go, and even if we had it, we have no way to reach it."

"I could fly you out of town, one by one," Kyril said. "How far away is the closest city?"

"Around five hundred miles," Lorrain said. "It doesn't matter. Few would be willing to do it, and those few would want to bring their belongings with them. Fast as you are it would take weeks, and the ones left would be even easier prey."

"Right," Kyril said. "So the options are either we find and kill the thing or die trying. That's funny."

Lorrain's eyes narrowed. "The murder of my townsfolk is funny to you?"

"I've hunted and killed things before, but never led an investigation. It's a new thing to me."

Mika turned toward Lorrain. She fumed with anger, but she was able to hide it well. They'd have to talk later.

"Is the town only inhabited by humans?" Kyril asked. "Aside from Mika I mean."

"There a few feleo families and a couple of kravee. The rest are all human."

"Have you thought one of your townsfolk might be the murderer?"

"What?" Lorrain said, her eyes wide. "What are you talking about?"

"Some creatures are very good at shapeshifting into humans. It might have introduced itself in the community in a form you are comfortable with, then started preying on you in its real form. Did anybody join you recently, shortly before the beginning of the murders?"

Lorrain shook her head. "The last man to join us was Father Duncan, sent by the Council of the seven themselves to be our church's parish, but that was more than two years ago."

"What kind of man is he?"

"You wouldn't like him," Mika said. "He likes his privacy, hates to leave the church and doesn't talk much. Still, he observes all the rites of his religion and follows the laws of the Allmother as good as any priest would."

"I'd like to meet him."

"Will be difficult," Lorrain said. "He thinks dragons are aberration. I don't think he'll even let you enter the church."

"Truly," he said. "Will he stop me by clasping his hands together and praying to his god really hard?"

Lorrain took her head on her hands. "Just tell us how you'll help us."

"No idea," he said. "I suppose I'll start by having a look around, see if these woods hide some surprises. Then maybe I'll hang around town a bit. Your folks will have problems with that?"

"Almost certainly," Lorrain said, her eyes narrowed. "Still, they were warned of your coming and they know your help is needed. They won't bother you, on the condition you won't bother them."

"Then do me a favor and ask around if anyone has seen something weird or out of place lately. Aside from the hanged corpses I mean. Can I hunt in these woods?"

Lorrain seemed confused. "Why would you ask me?"

"You're the mayor. That means the woods around town are your territory. Formally speaking, I need your permission to hunt in its limits." "What if I said no?"

"I would do it anyway;" Kyril said. "I'd feel bad about it though."

"You can hunt in the woods all you want, Kyril," Mika said. "All the meat we eat comes from poultry and pig farmers. The forest is too dangerous for us."

"Figured as much," he said. He turned toward the door. "I'm going stalking for a while, don't think you'll see me until evening. I won't go too far away though. All good with that?"

Lorrain said nothing. "You do what you think it's best," Mika said. He nodded and left.

/

"He's a bloody arsehole."

Mika sat down and offered Lorrain some tea while she sipped at her own cup. "Aye," she said. "I guessed that was the impression he gave you."

"What other impression should I have gotten?" she said. "He came here like he owned the place, did not greet me as one should a woman of my rank, made jokes about my town and the folks dying in it. He said it's interesting, for fuck's sake. Had he been a man, I would've had him beaten and thrown in jail."

"But he's not a man, is he?"

"You could say that" Lorrain said. "A bloody monster he is. Bigger than a fucking cart horse. I heard the bloody earth crack the moment he touched ground. How strong must he be to do that?"

"There are old legends of dragons able to throw down mountains and cause earthquakes with a single blow," Mika said. "I don't know how much truth there is to those tales, but I'm sure Kyril is not at that level yet. He's young and inexperienced, and only acts cocky because he hasn't proved himself yet. He'll get better."

"I hope so," Lorrain said. "And I hope he finds the bastard who's hunting, because otherwise there will be no one around here to see him get better."

Mika chuckled. She drank the last of her tea and offered Lorrain more, but she shook her head. "No, thank you. I must go now. Monster or not, there's still work to do."

"Can I accompany you? I'd like to stretch my legs a bit."

"If you wish," Lorrain said, grabbing her fur coat. "Let us go then."

They walked outside and took a breath of air. The day was cold but not freezing, a good day to have a walk. They marched through the snow and spoke more of Kyril and their enemy until one man with black hair and beard came running toward them.

"Mrs, Creed, Mrs. Creed," he said, almost yelling. "Mrs. Creed, the dragon has arrived! My wife done seen him fly right above our house, towards the forest! He was so big his shadow -"

Lorrain raised her hand. "Lambert please," she said. "I know perfectly the dragon is here. I've spoken to him not even twenty minutes ago. He's promised he won't bother the townsfolk, so stay away from him and nothing bad will happen."

"But he's so big, ma'am. Bigger than the biggest horse I've ever seen. The Darrensons done seen him too, said he was red like blood - like a demon from the tales!"

"You're telling me nothing I don't know already," Lorrain said. "Don't make me repeat myself, Lambert. Get back home and forget about it. As far as you're concerned, he doesn't exist. As I've already said at the town's all, if you see him again just ignore him, and he won't bother you at all. Is that clear?"

At that point Lambert seemed to get the gist of it. He muttered a "yes, ma'am," and then turned around to leave, but Mika suspected nothing had been solved. There were already other people outside gazing at the sky, anxious and excited and dreading to see the Kyril's dragonic shape standing against the sky. It would be like that all day, she suspected, and who knew what would happen when he returned that evening.

/

After ten minutes spent in the vastity of the forest that surrounded Ribia, Kyril had decided that the most dangerous thing in the woods around Ribia were direwolves even a human could have dealt with with a good gun and that every single inhabitant of that town bar Mika was a coward.

He gave a look at the tree the boys had been impaled too but found nothing of interest aside from the fact that the branch was particularly rotten compared to the others. Afterward he flew around without precise end goal for quite a while. He killed a few direwolves for sport and slaughtered a bear and ate him from the inside out, just to show the local fauna a new predator was around. Despite the presence of Ribia he could feel that forest was almost uncontaminated and though it had to be old it still had the strength of the earth in the first days of the world. He doubted he would stay there long enough to know but he wondered what kind of creatures dwelled in the depths of the forest, if there were fey colonies of nymphs or any other sort of creature less like them and more like him. He wondered if they would try to kill him.

When the sun started to go down he started to fly back to Ribia. He was half-way from the town when he looked dawn and saw a lone woman washing clothes by the river. She saw him too and instead or running away in terror as he expected she raised a hand and shook it at him, the way humans greet each other. He planed down and landed a few feet away from her, doing his best to break the ground as little as he could not to intimidate her. But she was not intimidated by him: if anything else, she seemed elated. "By the stars," she said as he walked closer. "You must be that dragon everybody's talking about."

"Yes, that's me," he said. "Come to slay the beast and save the town. And for free, too."

The woman giggled. "I see, I see," she said. "You sure that's what you're here for, though? I reckon dragons only visit human settlement to kidnap damsels and steal cattle."

Kyril gave her a good look. She was tall for a human woman, over six feet, with blonde hair and blue eyes. Her legs were long and shapely, her waist thin and her hips wide. She wore a thick blue tunic that bulged at the level of her chest and he wondered if women were even built to have breasts that big.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm here to help a friend of mine with this whole business," he said. "I think if I do a good job they'll let me get away with stealing a few damsels though."

She smirked. "Would I be one of the few lucky ones?"

"Probably. Show me how you wash that laundry a little longer and I'll think about it."

She laughed and shook her head. "I see the males of your species are even more forward than our men," she said. "Are you like this with all females, or only with the human ones?"

"All of them, I'm afraid. Dragons don't mess around when they want something, neither males nor females. We tell things as they are."

"Do you, now?" she said, still smirking. "You know, they say demons do the same thing."

"I thought demons always lied?"

"Only with those who want to fool someone," she said. "You're not easy to fool, are you?"

"I suppose we'll have to see," he said. He looked up and saw the sky rapidly become dark. "Isn't it a bit late to wash the laundry?"

"Oh, it's fine," she said. "Ribia's not that far away."

"The rest of the town doesn't seem to agree," he said. "The way your mayor speaks, I doubt most your townsfolk would dare go as deep in the forest as you."

She laughed. "What can I say, I'm a brave girl." She glared at him. "One more reason to kidnap me, am I right?"

Kyril didn't answer. He stood there for a bit longer, his eyes anchored to her, only this time he wasn't staring to her ass nor to her swinging breasts. "And the chalice?"

The woman looked at him. "What?"

"The chalice," he said. "The one you have behind the laundry. What's that for?"

She looked at him with a confused expression on her face and when she lowered her gaze and saw the chalice she reacted as if she had seen it for the first time in her life. "Oh, you mean this," she said. "Yes, this is my father's favorite chalice. Part of a collection, you see. I brought it here to wash it."

"It looks clean to me."

"Well, you know what they say," she replied with a smile. "Clean things can always get cleaner."

She made so submerge the chalice in the water, but Kyril stopped it. "Can I see it for a moment?" he asked. "Up close, I mean."

She paused again. "Oh, sure, if you want," she said, and handed it to him. Kyril grabbed it with his scaly hands, careful it didn't touch his claws. He turned the object in his hands but he found nothing peculiar about it. Just a black chalice with four white lines running down the sides. He passed it back to her. "Thank you," she said, then submerged the chalice in the water and gave it a good rinsing with her towel. When it came out it seemed as clean as before, if not wetter.

"Well, I have to go now," she said. She threw the chalice on top of the laundry and then grabbed the entire basket and stood up. She turned toward him. "I hope we'll meet again, dragon," she said. "I don't think I would mind being stolen by you."

Kyril said nothing. He watched her disappear in the depth of the woods among the trees and the bushes and he knew instinctively that if he'd tried to follow her he would have seen nobody, and if he'd asked around town for a woman with blonde hair and great breasts no one would have known who he was talking about. He heard something wet fall on the ground and when he looked down at his hands he saw that his palms and the tips of his fingers were bleeding.

/

Mika had had a bad feeling all day. In appearance she had no reason to: the townsfolk complained about Kyril, but mostly to Lorrain. Bette's newborn kept being scrawny no matter how much he sucked, so she ordered a gallon of her milk along with a new blanket and hats. Usually easing the pressure on her breasts with a good milking was the most relaxing way to start a new day, and knitting warm clothes for those not lucky enough to have a coat as furry as hers was a good way to continue it, but that day she felt as if something were pressing in the back of her head and she could not scroll off the feeling that someone was watching her.

It was almost time for supper when someone knocked at her door. She put down the half-finished hat, stood up and opened it, only to find Father Duncan standing in front of her, his face like a mask of stone.

"Good evening, Mika," he said. "Can I come in?"

For some reason, something in her head told her to say no. "Of Course you can, Father," she said, and moved to the side to let him enter. "I did not expect you tonight."

"Didn't you, now."

The way he said it irked her. "To be honest, Father, I never expect you to come. You barely even talk when I'm around."

"I barely talk when anybody's around," he replied. "I came here to ask you to join the mass tomorrow morning. I know you do not believe in the Allmother, but you're a trusted member of the community and seeing you among the flock will quieten the hearts of many followers."

Mika closed the door behind him. "You'll have to accept my apologies, Father, but you know I ain't one for religion. I had my fair share of adventures when I was young and let me tell you, when you travel around you learn that the less you have to do with gods, the better."

Father Duncan sighed. "Your words sadden me and the Allmother alike. There is so much strength in you, such might, and yet you do not want to put it to her use. Why have it then?"

"If we're talking strength of mind or soul, I don't think I've ever had much of that, except in the days I was a young thing half the size I am now," she said. "If' we're talking physical strength, well, I don't know what a goddess could do with that."

"When you put yourself in the service of the Allmother, every skill and ability you have becomes a gift to her. Gifts that she will remember when the time of the Stillborn comes. Only then she will appear, and her true form - "

A cacophony of screams broke the air, followed by someone knocking at the door so hard they almost brought it down. "Mika, open the door," Kyril said. "I need to talk to you."

Mika glanced at Duncan. The parish's eyes had narrowed, his hands crossed and pressed against his chest. "Can't you come later?" she said. "I'm busy now."

"To hell with busy," he said. The door sprung open and Kyril started squeezing his body in. "I met someone at the river not even an hour ago, and I'll be damned if she was - "his eyes fell on Father Duncan.

Mika had dreaded their eventual meeting and hoped it would happen as late as possible, but now neither of them were reacting the way she would have expected. Father Duncan wasn't clutching the Allmother's medallion to his chest, and though she was sure Kyril had recognized him as the parish of the town he did not mock him. They stared at each other in silence, like two warriors studying their enemy. She felt the need to de-escalate the situation and stepped between them.

"Oh, forgive me," she said. "I should have made presentations sooner. Duncan, this is Kyril, the dragon that has agreed to help us. Kyril this is Father Duncan - he's the parish of town."

Kyril's eyes moved from him to her and back to him, but he said nothing. Father Duncan took a great breath and turned toward her. "There is no need for presentation," he said. "I saw the beast this morning as it flew over the forest, and I did not particularly wish to meet him face to face."

"Didn't you?" Kyril said. "It's funny. I wish I had met you sooner instead."

"I cannot imagine why," he said. He looked at the door and then back at Kyril. "Regardless, I was about to leave. Out of my way, creature."

Any other day Mika would have expected Kyril to rip the old man's head off, but instead the dragon moved aside immediately, almost meekly, as if he were dealing with a dangerous predator and did not want to provoke him. Father Duncan glared at him with disdain, then turned toward Mika and bowed her head slightly before he left and closed the door behind him.

"Are you alright, Kyril?" she asked.

He turned toward her. His eyes were wide, his pupils reduced to slits. "Who was that?"

"I told you, he's the parish. Doesn't like to socialize much, and some of us wish he would keep his faith more to himself and his followers, but he's a good man."

"He was the last member of the town to join you? A couple years ago, you said?"

"Yes, indeed."

For a moment Kyril stared at the floor without seeing it, his gaze lost into the void. She was about to speak when he raised his head and looked at her. "I want you to never meet him alone again."

"What?"

"Something's wrong with him," he said. "I want you to stay away from him as much as possible. Unless I'm in the same room as the two of you, I want you to avoid him as if he had fucking malaria."

"Kyril, this is ridiculous. Father Duncan is a man like any else in this town." She glared at him. "And I don't take orders for anybody. You know that"

"It's not an order, it's a request," he said. "Can you take a damn request, or do I have to beg you for it?"

"You don't even know what begging means," she said. "And why do you want me to stay away from him anyway? What's wrong with him?"

"I don't know," he said. "I'm not sure yet. Just stay away from him, and if you absolutely cannot then bring me with you. No matter what, do not stay alone in the same room as him, ever, for no reason. Am I clear?"

Mika sighed. "You're acting weird, Kyril," she said. "It is not like you to be intimidated by humans.

"Not by humans, aye," he said. "Not by humans indeed." He looked at her kitchen. "Do you have some beer around here?"

"No, I don't."

"Wine then? Gin? Anything alcoholic?"

"You know I don't drink," she said. "I can give you some tea, or milk, if you want to."

"Milk?" he glared at her. "Your milk, you mean?"

"Sure as all hells don't need to buy it from someone else, do I?"

"Do you sell it?"

"When I must. It has nutrients human milk doesn't have, and it helps the whelps grow stronger."

"How much do you have right now?"

"Five gallons milked this morning. Got to do it every day, or my breasts start aching."

"A chore if I ever heard of one," he said. "Let me try some."

Mika went to grab one of the glass containers she held the milk in and gave it to him. He unscrewed the tap and smelled it with insistence, then grabbed the whole tank and poured it down his throat. He gulped it down as if it were the last thing he'd ever drink and it took him all but a few seconds to empty it down to the last drop. He put it down on the table and burped.

"By the nine hells," Mika said, her eyes wide with surprise and a small, impressed smile on her muzzle. "That's a whole gallon you just downed. If you were a human you'd be throwing your soul up right now."

"It's good," he said. "How much more do you have?"

"Well, I have a gallon reserved for the Billingers, but I suppose you can have the rest if you want."

He did. She brought him the remaining three gallons and watched him as he drunk the second one as if it were nothing. She made some tea for herself as he started with the third and sat down sipping it as she watched him swallow the milk in great gulps. She didn't know if she had to be proud of herself or worried. "I suppose you're not going to pay me for those, are you?"

Kyril finished the third gallon and put it next to the first. He glared at her for a second, then grabbed one scale off his wrist and ripped it off at the roots. He threw it at her. "There," he said. "That scale alone is worth more than this town. Enjoy."

Mika laughed. "I don't think I'll find many buyers in a town full of farmers and breeders."

"There's always a chance to sell a dragon's scale. One day a rich moron will pass around these parts and will buy it for four million bioms, so you'll be able to get the fuck out of here and move to somewhere people don't risk becoming a monster's supper." He opened the fourth tank and started sipping it at a gentler pace.

"I don't think I want to move from here," Mika said, the ghost of a smile still on her face. "Ribia is a nice, quiet town. At least it was before this damn monster started impaling our children to trees. If I'd wanted to move, I could have done so already."

"I know you could," he said. "Why didn't you hunt this bastard yourself anyway? You used to be good at that."

"As I've already said to Lorrain, my fighting days are over," she said. "I keep myself in good shape because that's what my tribe taught me, and it improves the quality of the milk, but I'm getting old. My bones always crack when I raise in the morning or move too fast, and my legs and back ache all the time. That's no state to fight anybody."

"You still look like you looked thirty years ago to me."

Mika smirked. "Thank you, but don't flatter an old lady. There's risk I start believing it."

Silence fell as Mika sipped her tea and Kyril finished drinking the milk. Once he was done he set it aside and glared at her with an intensity that made a shiver run down her spine.

"Listen," he said. "I must ask you some questions, and you'll have to answer me as precisely as possible. Is that clear?"

"Will they help you find the thing that's hunting us?"

"Probably."

"Then I'm all hears."

"Good," he said. "You sure there isn't anymore milk?"

"Not anymore that you can drink," she said, one of her eyebrows raised. "Is this one of the questions that's supposed to save our town?"

"Never mind. Listen, how long ago was Ribia founded?"

"About eighty years. Why?"

"You ever had problems with supernatural entities? Fey, nymphs, kelpies, demons or celestial entities of any kind? Stuff like me?"

"Not that I know of."

"Any wizards?" he said. "Sorcerers, summoners, witches, necromants, any of the bunch?"

Mika shrugged. "I'm fairly sure I'm the only one with a hint of magic in her veins in the whole town."

"What about Father Duncan? He's a parish of the order of the Golden Council, shouldn't he know something about magic? Healing spells, summoning, exorcisms?"

"If he does, he's never shown it before," she said. "Nor would he call it 'magic'. For him, they'd be 'miracles'."

"Miracles are magic, whether the morons of the Golden orders say so or not," he said, almost growling. "Are you sure your parish can't do any of those things?"

"You know I can't be."

"Good."

He stood up his full size and walked up to the door. "Sorry, I wish I could talk more, but I have to go," he said. "I must ask the mayor some questions. You think you can squeeze a few more gallons of milks for me tomorrow morning?."

"Sure I can," she said, a different kind of shiver running down her spine. "Just don't get addicted to the stuff. It's been known to cause diarrhea."

"I'll risk it," he said, then opened the door and disappeared in the snow.

/

"You think he's following a lead?" Lorrain asked. It was almost midnight and neither her nor Mika were able to fall asleep. It was an unspoken lrule between the two of them to meet when they couldn't sleep, to talk and have some tea. Now they were both sitting at Mika's table with cups of tea in their hands, and they warmed themselves in preparation of the blizzard that was slowly raising in power outside the door.

"I think so," she said. "I saw the way he changed mood in the afternoon. He stopped making jokes and insulting the town. I think he's taking things more seriously."

"He came to me a few hours ago, to ask me questions," Lorrain said. "Mostly about Ribia and the townsfolk and the territory around it. Maybe he's trying to narrow down the range of creatures who hunt their prey like that?"

"It did not seem like that to me," Mika said. "To me, it feels like he believes the danger comes from inside the town."

Lorrain shrugged. "I don't know what to say. Ribia was the quietest place in the world before this nightmare started. If the murderer is truly hiding among us then either they're very good at going unnoticed or we are all a bunch of idiots."

Silence. For a few moments they listened to the wind blow furiously outside the house, wood creaking and windows trembling in their frames. It was the perfect night for something bad to happen and their only consolation was that it was not a full moon yet.

"Do you think he's out there, right now?" Said Lorrain.

"Who, Kyril?"

"No, the monster," she said. "The creature that is hunting us down. Do you think he's plotting his next victim, or, or does he choose them at random?"

"You shouldn't think about those things."

"What else am I supposed to do?" Lorrain said, her eyebrows furrowed. "The townsfolks are terrified. Every day I have people asking me what I'm doing to help Ribia, and all I can say is that I'm working on it because the alternative is to say that a dragon my best friend hasn't met in thirty years is currently investigating the matter - which is only slightly less ridiculous of what I said to make them accept that a dragon is prowling among us. I swear they're almost as scared of him as they're scared of this creature." She glared at her. "Let's say your dragon is following a trace or whatever. Do you think we're truly closer to solving the problem?"

"No," Mika said. "But if you thought Kyril was going to solve this trouble in a couple of days, then you're kidding yourself."

They said nothing else for a long time, their eyes anchored to the bottom of their empty cups. Mika didn't know if it was shame or if she'd truly offended her not did she know what to say to repair the broken bridge if it were so. In the end she took was tea was left and offered it to Lorrain. She waved her hand as if to say 'why not' and Mika poured more tea in her cup.

"I know how you feel," she said, and Lorrain glared at her. "Truly, I do. But I've been through my fair share of bad situations, and I can tell you right now things are not hopeless. Bad, maybe, but not hopeless. And they'll get better soon."

"Things usually get worse before getting better," Lorrain said.

"Aye, well," Mika said. "That's what Kyril's for, I suppose."

/

The day passed fast in Ribia, and Kyril refused to do anything other than explore the woods or sleep in Mika's house and drink her milk. The night of the next full moon came closer and closer but instead of investigating the nature of the beast they were hunting or finding clues about where it could hide he ate and slept and terrorized the town by walking around the streets like he owned them. Every time he appeared in the main square someone threw up or started crying while some fell unconscious right where they stood. Mobs of townsfolk came almost every day to the Town Hall to complain about the dragon, and Lorrain did her best to calm them down, but both her and Mika knew it was a matter of time before they'd have to do something about it. The only one who didn't seem worried at all about the situation was Kyril himself. Mika often saw him walk around in the streets in the evening and in rare occasion he saw one of the townsfolk out in the open he tried to approach them. Most people couldn't even stand to be around him and ran away at the sight of him as if he carried some deadly disease. The few brave or mad enough to talk with him didn't seem at all pleased and only spoke a few words before running away. He brought her with him sometimes, and the conversation he had with the people usually concerned either the dead and the families of the dead or Father Duncan and his arrival in town two years prior. Nobody seemed to have the answers he wanted, so every night he flew away somewhere in the forest or retired with Mika in her house with a scowl that would have scared a manticore.

"What is it that you're searching for?" she said one night, as she lay down unable to sleep. Kyril was coiled around her bed, his head leaned over his paws. Minotaurs did not see well at night or in the dark so all she could see was a dragonic shape wrapped around her and two big green eyes staring at her. More than once he had returned home and found him waiting for her in her bed, looking at her in silence. She knew what he wanted and she was sure that he knew part of her wanted it too. She wasn't sure of how that made her feel. She always made him get off it.

"I don't know," he said. "Proof, I suppose."

"Proof of what?"

"Of my theory."

"And what is your theory?"

He shook his head. "Doesn't matter. If I don't have proof, I might as well tell you the Stillborn himself is the culprit. We'll have to wait."

"Until when?"

"Until the next full moon."

"Kyril, the next full moon is in four days."

"I know," he said. "That's when I'll prove if my theory is correct."

"Will more people have to die to prove it?"

Silence. Kyril moved his paws over his head and his green eyes disappeared. "Probably," he said, and then fell silent.

/

The day of the full moon came without a whisper. The wind did not blow; the snow did not fall. The moon was visible in the sky since late morning. The townsfolk left their homes only to go to mass in the morning and once it was over they returned to their houses and locked themselves inside. Nothing happened the rest of the day, and nothing would. Kyril stood over a cliff near Ribia and surveyed the town. He did not eat and when he grew thirsty he ate snow. His eyes remained anchored to the church all morning and all day, when in the mid of noon he heard steps coming from behind him. "Lorrain," he said. "What a nice surprise. Want to have a break and sit down with me?"

She came next to him. "How did you recognize me?"

"The way you walk," he said. "Also your scent obviously, but that's something any dragon could do."

She stayed silent for a moment. "What do I smell like?"

"Salty, I'd say. Salty and earthy. Most humans smell like that. You're a female, so there's also your musk - pheromones and all that stuff. You also smell like anger and nervousness."

"What does anger and nervousness smell like?"

"Wouldn't know how to describe it, honestly," he said. "Ask me how your brain smells in general and I might give you better answers."

Silence came back a few more seconds. "Are you going to do something today?"

"Why do you ask that?"

"You were supposed to help us defeat this monster," she said. "You've been here for more than a week and all you've done was harass the townsfolk and drink Mika's milk."

"It tastes good."

"This is not a joke, you know," she said. "Somebody's going to die tonight, and it will be your fault."

"Nobody's going to die tonight."

"Oh, really?" she scoffed. "What are you going to do, surprise the monster when he's about to kidnap a child and engage him in straight combat, like the heroes of old?"

"Won't need to do that," he said, and lowered his head. "Too soon anyway. Let me correct myself: if my theory is right, nobody is going to die tonight."

"Aye, Mika has told me about your theory. Specifically how she knows nothing of it, and that you refuse to tell what this theory even is to anybody."

"Don't worry, I won't tell you either. Wouldn't want you to feel excluded."

Lorrain snorted. "You like this, don't you?"

"Like what?"

"This," she said, and spread her hands. "This whole thing. It's like a playground for you. You get to follow clues and play the part of the investigator and maybe have the change to fight with some monstrous creature from the hells themselves - it's like you're training to be the dragon you'll become, the dragon you'll be for the rest of your life, going around Treguria and killing things and eating folks you don't like. Meanwhile we stay here and die slowly, one at a time."

"I told you you all should leave."

"And I told you we can't, because all we have is here and most of us wouldn't survive the travel. It's a choice between dying or becoming a beggar."

"You'll have to trust me, then," he said. "That's all I have for you."

She grunted. "Are you at least following a good clue?"

"Not sure I would call it a clue," he said. "Let's say I'm following a hunch."

Lorrain sighed. "I hope it's a good hunch."

"It is," he said. "You have to do something for me though."

She looked at him. "What is it?"

"Listen to me well, I know it'll be a lot. I know we don't know each other well and you do not trust nor like me, but you need to do what I tell you to do and stay outside tonight." he said. "All of you. Every man, every woman, every child of Ribia must stay outside, in the main square, no matter how cold or how dark it is. I don't care how you do it - organize a feast, invent a celebration, invite them all to party as a way to spite the beast and cheer the spirits or, whatever - just make sure they are all together in the same place, and everybody is in the line of sight of everybody. Can you do that?"

For a few seconds, she was wordless. "You've gone insane," she said. "There is the full moon tonight. If we stay outside, we are easy pickings."

"No, you're not," he said. "I promise you. If I'm right, not even one of you will be harmed tonight."

"And what if you're wrong?" she said. "What if the fucking monster comes and makes a meal out of us?"

He shrugged. "It won't," he said. "But if it does, I will fight it myself, and if I fail to protect your town at the end of the night I'm the last one standing in Ribia, I'll cut my throat with my own claws. I swear on my honor I'll do it." He looked at her. "That's good enough for you?"

Lorrain took her face in her hands. She stroked her eyes with her fingers and looked at him. "You're asking me a lot."

"You asked me a lot," he said. "Or maybe you think I'm used to hunting down man-eating monsters like this?"

"You're a dragon," she said, matter-of-factly.

Kyril laughed. "A young dragon," he said. "And I only wish that being a dragon alone made you a good monster hunter."

He raised his head. The sky was yellow, the moon now clearer in than it had ever been. It shone like a diamond, no star to challenge its light. It was beautiful and part of him wished he could have stayed there to watch it all day and all night along, but he had a job to do.

"How long before the evening Mass starts?"

"Hours. Why, what are you going to do?

"Isn't it obvious?" he said. "I'm going to repent my sins."

/

Lorrain left. Kyril knew she would follow his request, he smelled it on her, but that didn't make him any less nervous. If he was wrong, Ribia was doomed. What he had not said was that even if he was right, the whole damn town might be doomed anyway. He stared at the moon for a little longer as the darkness crept in over the buildings, and more time passed and more lights he could see dying inside the houses and reappear through the streets of the city and more than everywhere else in the main hall. He could see tables being set and chairs being brought, decorations set and food prepared. It seemed that Lorrain was somehow managing to do what he'd asked her to do even faster than he'd thought, and he had to reconsider everything he thought about her. Once it was almost evening he started coming down the cliff, and it was then and there he met the blonde woman again.

She was not washing the laundry this time, nor was she dressed as a maid. She instead sat on the roots of a large tree, its enormous foliage surrounding her and covering her in shadow. She wore a flower dress so thin he could see the exact shape of her breasts and the contours of her nipples from a distance. He knew why she was there. He thought about ignoring her and going his way but he stopped himself. There was a talk to be had between the two of them, maybe the last one before they got in the thick of it. That may be the last chance to end things pacifically they would get, and they both knew it. Kyril went to her. She already knew he was there but pretended to only notice him as he got closer. When he was a few feet away from her she turned her head toward him and smiled a smile that was all teeth, her eyes wide.

"Kyril!" she said. "It's so nice to see you again. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"It has," he said. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, just admiring the view." She pointed at the town. "Look at that, the town is in feast. That hasn't happened in quite a while, I'll tell you. Do you think everybody will come?"

"Everybody but very few," Kyril said. He glared at her. "I know what you are, anyway."

Her smile widened. "Do you, now?"

"Yes. I'm not sure who you are yet, so I can't banish you or entrap you, but I'll learn soon enough. You shouldn't have let me touch the chalice. That was a give away if I've ever seen one."

"You say it like I didn't do it by purpose," she said. "You think you played me. Maybe I played you."

"Maybe," he said. "In any case, tonight I get to play with your parish. Care to say something before we begin?"

The woman didn't answer. Instead she uncrossed her legs and stood up. She fixed her dress with her ends and turned toward him. "This is all a waste of time," she said. "We know how it will end already. I don't want that to happen. There is another way."

"You and that zealot fuck leave town and never return?"

"Oh, I can't do that," she said.

"Then I really don't know what this other way might be."

The woman laughed. She walked up closer to him and ran a hand over his chest, felt the hard plates that made up his natural armor and the scales on his sides, The other hand joined the first, and both roamed his body until they started to descend, lower and lower, and they stopped right over his crotch. Then one hand grabbed the sheath while the other grabbed the top of his cock as it poked outside, the first ropes of semen already leaking on the ground.

"There is always another way, Kyril," she said, one hand running to his balls as the other stroked his cock. "Always another choice."

Kyril looked down. "Is this the same choice you gave to your parish?"

"You're judging me for that?" she laughed again. "Your spite toward him entertains me. I think you'll find he's much more useful than you think he might be."

"Aye. But I might be even more useful still, am I right?"

"Maybe," she said, her hands still working on him. "Maybe not. You want to find out?"

He barked a laugh and took a step back. "Sorry," he said. "My master has warned me about females like you. I'm afraid in the end we'll have to do things my way."

The woman's smile fell a little. "You're lying," she said. "I can feel your desire. I can see your organ grow hard and fat, your balls swell with need. You want this.

" "My body wants this. That doesn't mean much to the brain." He took a few steps back, his eyes still on her. ""Don't despair, though. I have the feeling we'll see each other once again."

"I do, too," she said, her voice now cold as ice. "Though you'll see me in a much less pleasant form, I'm afraid."

Kyril didn't answer. He had nothing less to say, so he opened his wings and flew away, his limbs trembling and his chest heaving. Only one time he had to stop in the woods to throw up: once that was done the plan was as clear to him as it had ever been.

"Right," he said. "Time to stop playing around."

***

One night the boy had a dream. He sat naked on a throne of sculpted flesh in a room at the end of the universe, with a knife in his hand and the blood of a thousand dead souls wetting his body. His feet were submerged in the blood and his body was caked from head to toe in gore. Even his cock was slated in it, a small erection protruding from between his skinny legs. In front of him was a woman made of bronze, naked like him, sitting on a throne just like his own. A black chalice with four white lines running at the sides sat in front of her.

"What are you doing here? He asked. "What do you want?"

"I want you," she said.

"I gave you my faith already," he said. "What else do you want?"

She stood up and walked toward him. He grasped his small cock with both hands and started masturbating him. There was no passion in her movements, no love nor affection. When he came she let go of his shaft and let a few drops of semen fall into the pool of blood at their feet. Then she hunched over him and cleaned her hands on his face.

When he woke up his knife was red, the house was silent, and his mother was dead.

***

Usually, Mass started at eight. Tonight, the mayor had asked him to start an hour earlier, so that the feast could begin the moment it was over. There were no words in any language to describe the fury that had risen in him when he learnt Lorrain's little stunt, but there was no reason to be angry with her. She was an idiot, like all the rest of them. He knew who was responsible for that little trick - the dragon, waste of semen that he was, it had to have been him. Still, it was only a wrench in his plan. It would be harder: he'd have to be quicker and stealthier and smarter than he had ever been, but he could do it. He could always do it. That's why she had chosen him.

That night when Mass started only half the flock came. Many were already in the square, preparing for the festivities. That irked him, but it was no great evil: a few less prayers wouldn't have offended her. What offended him instead was the way they walked in: all were scared and all were worried, but not as they had been. Not how they were supposed to be. Something had changed and he hated it.

The townsfolk sat down on the benches of the church and clutched their hands together, waiting for him to give the signal to start singing. He noticed the benches were even less occupied than he thought, but he tried not to let it trouble him.

He raised his hands and started the chant. The flock soon followed, and though their voices hurt his ears and the smell of their open mouths and sweating skin made him want to puke he powered himself through the torture as he always did and tried his best to sing how they had taught him at the oratorio many years before he met her. Half of what he said was wrong and the other half was made up, but he'd been parish of Ribia for two years and none of these inbred fools suspected anything. Not that he cared. The words did not matter, the music did not matter: what mattered was the desire to worship something, and they did not need to know who it was they were worshipping. As always, all that matters is the belief.

The time of the singing was over. He brought the chant to an end and glared at his flock. "I'm so glad to see you all here," he said. "Though this is a night of the full moon, and though we fear for our loved ones, let's not forget our goddess, the Mother of All, who watches over us and protects us from evil. She will see us through as she always has, and banish evil from our homes as if it were specks of dust on the floor."

"Ode to the Allmother," said the townsfolk. Usually they said it all in one voice, but this time more than a few did not say it, and many more said it without any force of belief behind the words. His blood boiled.

"You all have noticed our beloved mayor has gifted us with a feast, to scare away the fear of the dark and stay together through the night. I cannot help but fear for my flock, left so exposed to the dark, but I have no doubt the mayor will make sure no man, woman or child will be hurt during the festivities."

He paused to see the effects his words had on the crowd. There were whispers in the back, but nothing else. He huffed.

"I also remind you," he said. "That the major, under the suggestion of one of us, has called a dragon to protect us. You all have seen him in these days, and I say: beware, beware! Dragons have no soul, no good in their hearts. They're little better than wild beasts, and that's how they should be treated."

The reaction this time was closer to what he wanted, but still not enough. A few people yelled their approval, a few clapped. Most of them kept silent and watched through the window as the preparations with the feast continued. The bastard fools were terrified of the full moon, but the nine hells forbid they lost one free meal.

At that point he saw no reason to keep putting in a front like that anymore. He made them sing the songs that truly mattered and made them say the words she truly cared about, made another monologue about loving each other and praying to the Allmother, then blessed everyone and told them they could leave. He climbed down the pulpit and went to open the doors as he always did, the signal they could leave, but this time did not go as he wanted. This time he opened the doors and saw Kyril staring back at him.

The dragon sat right at the beginning of the marbled path that brought to the church, his head lowered and slightly tilted on the right. He was sitting with his back curved and yet measured more than six feet in height. His wings were contracted folded against back. The scaled bastard had tried his best to look as harmless as possible but seeing him still made his stomach churn despite everything. "Good evening, Father Duncan," he said. "Can I have a word with you?"

From the moment the dragon had appeared the world had seemed to be locked into a stasis, and his words seemed the only thing able to break it. The moment he finished to speak the townsfolk started crawling away like lurid parasites, directed to the feast that had been organized to keep them away from him. They disappeared faster than lightning could strike, and soon on the path there were only the two of them, still immobile, still staring down at each other.

"What are you doing here?" Father Duncan said. "I don't let beasts prowl in my garden."

"Then I'm very sorry I took a shit behind your flowers," Kyril said, his paw pointed at a bush of white roses. "You know how it is, when nature calls."

"You need to leave," Duncan said through clenched teeth. "You need to leave now."

"I'm sorry, father, but I can't do that. You and I have a few words to exchange first," Kyril said. "And none of us is leaving until what must be said has been said. Do we understand each other?"

Father Duncan didn't answer.

"Good," Kyril said. "Oh, and don't worry about inviting me in. No need for that at all."

The dragon stood up and walked beside him. He entered the church as if it were his own, looked around and gave out a whistle. "A beautiful place, Father," he said. "I'm personally not much for religion, but I have to admit these stained-glass windows are amazing." He turned toward him. "Aren't you going to close the doors? It's a bit cold outside. Wouldn't want you to take a cold."

Duncan closed the doors behind him. He walked around the benches with great care, as if waiting for the dragon to strike. "What brings you here, monster?" he said. "What do you want?"

"Can't you guess, Father?" he said. "I am, as you said, a monster. Little better than a beast. Is it so bad that a beast might want to better himself?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Redemption, Father," he said with a smile. "I've come for your absolution."

Duncan stared at him. Never had he been made fun of in such a way, never had he suffered such humiliation. Not since he'd become what he was now and left behind what he had been then. "You jest, dragon," he said. "Your kind does not believe in the Mother - absolution means nothing to them."

"There's a first time for everything, Father. Surely you won't send away a lost sheep trying to become part of the flock, will you?"

"I won't- "

"You need to know," he said. "That even though I'm young by dragon standard - barely an adult in fact - I've committed many crimes and broke many laws. I've slept with murderers and prostitutes and married women of all races - sometimes even with their husbands. I've stolen, corrupted and cheated people, for money or for love or for power. I've lied to my master and teacher the only mother I've ever had, and I've nurtured for her an incestuous attraction since I was but a hatchling." His eyes lowered on the ground. "I've killed, father. I've killed a lot, and I'm afraid I will keep killing if somebody doesn't help me." He raised his eyes back to him. "You wouldn't refuse me your help, would you?"

"I have no help to give you, creature," Duncan said, his eyes narrowed. "You're beyond salvation."

"Am I?" Kyril said. "That's weird. I thought no soul was beyond salvation."

"Dragons have no soul. Dragons never had souls. Only brute strength, low cunning and unhealthy appetites for the flesh of the other races," Duncan said. "Now leave, before - "

"Before what?" Kyril said." Before the Allmother strikes me down? Before the force of good defeats the force of evil? That is a heavy sentence to utter, Father. Before we come to that we should at least decide which one of us is which, don't you think?"

Duncan's eyes widened in rage. "Monster! Beast! Abomination!" he screamed. "How dare you call in question my place in the order of things!" he grabbed his golden medallion and raised it over his head. "I posses the medallion of the Mother! With its power, I could smite you where you stand in an instant!"

"Then smite me, Father," Kyril said. "If I really am so evil, and you are so good, I encourage you to do it. Even better, I encourage you to do it the next time one of your flock gets eaten alive and hanged on a tree. Then again, that might be a bit counterproductive, might it not?"

Duncan stiffened. The dragon started roaming around the church, throwing down benches and poking holes in the walls as if searching for something. He turned toward the pulpit and positioned himself in front of it, his eyes over the book leaned on it.

"From the Allmother's womb we come and from the Allmother's womb we return," he read. "For we are all Her children and like as children we are sent into our word so we return as children in death." He looked at him. "This is old Soltarian. Can you even read this stuff, or do you make up every scripture reading you do?"

"I... I..."

Kyril shook his head and closed the book. "Listen, I'll make it easy for you," he said. "Tell me the name of the demon you serve and what you did in their name, and I'll send you to the Golden Council instead of ripping your head off."

/

The feast was going well. Everybody had a seat at a table and they all ate as if there were no tomorrow. Lorrain had disposed some men and women of vigor around the square so that they could keep watch on everyone. Mika was there too: though she didn't eat nor drink anything - she was too anxious - she distracted herself by keeping watch over the children. They all knew who she was and they had all drunk her milk at least once. They liked her, so her task was an easy one. She could not tell the same for Lorrain, who was too busy circling from one table to another and asking question to the guards to relax even for a moment. Mika could see the fear in her eyes, the absolute certainty that sooner or later something would sprint out of the woods and start eating folks like tartlets. Once she was done greeting another family, Mika raised her hand at her and signaled Lorrain to come in her direction. When she arrived Mika shooed the children to another woman and they sat down together.

"Here," Mika said. She offered her a glass. "I haven't tried it, but they tell me it's good grog, gifted to me by some kobolds a few years back. It'll make you feel better."

Lorrain shook her head. "No, thank you. Only water for me. I need to keep my wits in check."

"You're still worried we'll all get eaten tonight?"

"I'm sure some of us will," she said. "How many that will be, I'm not sure yet."

"Kyril wouldn't have had this idea if he thought we ran serious risks. I'm sure he has a plan."

"I hope you're right," she said. "By the way, have you seen Father Duncan? I've been searching for him all evening and I've yet to find him."

Mika shrugged. "You know how he is. He probably thought nothing of our requests and stayed in the church."

"You must be right," Lorrain said. "Besides, I think Kyril wanted to talk to him."

"Really? How so?"

"I'm not sure. He said he wanted to 'repent his sins', but there's no doubt he was joking. He probably just wanted to harass a man of faith."

"I'm not sure I can see him do that without good reason," Mika said. She looked at the townsfolk as they sat on their benches. Most of them were as nervous as Lorrain, but some were having fun. They were not thinking about the full moon at all.

"Lorrain," he said. "I'm going to tell you something, and it's going to sound insane." She looked at her. "What is it?"

"I'm not sure why," she said. "But I feel like if we need to be worried about somebody, it should be Kyril."

/

Duncan sat on one of the front benches, his elbows on his knees and his head leaned over his fists, his shoulders slumped down. Kyril still sat behind the pulpit, his arms crossed over the book.

"Come on, don't be like that," he said. "You know it had to happen, sooner or later. If it weren't me, it would've been someone else. Now tell me the name of your master and I'll make it quick. Just a little blow on the head, and the next time you wake up it'll be in the inside of a cell. I promise to put in a good word for you, so they won't execute you for the murders."

"I don't get it. How did you do it?" Duncan said. "How did you understand everything?"

"I haven't understood everything, not yet. But if we're talking about you being the minion of a demonic entity, that was mostly luck. I met you and immediately realized you were in the hands of a force greater than you, then I met your boss down the river that runs right outside the forest. Not sure why she manifested to me so soon. Maybe she was just curious. With her there was her object of power - a black chalice with four white lines on every side." He raised a claw to point at his tunic. "Coincidentally, you wear some garments that look the same. One line on the front, one on the back and two on the sides. Couldn't be a coincidence. I know my demon lore well, and I know that demon servants need to wear colors that are connected to their masters or their object of power for the same reason a demon must always have their object of power with them when they manifest physically on this plane." He jumped down the pulpit. "I still need understand why you need to kill people every full moon, or why you pretend to be a parish while doing it. I wouldn't mind killing you, but I'll gladly settle for simply throwing you in jail and your master back in the nine hells where they belong though, so tell me what I want to know and let's be done with it."

"If I tell you, I am a dead man."

"Why, do you think I'll let you live if you don't?"

"You don't understand," he said. "I was helping. I made sure she got most of her power from the prayers of the townsfolk instead of the murders. That way I only had to kill once a month, on the night of a full moon. If you stop me from preaching, she'll force me to kill more people."

"Aye, I imagined something like that," Kyril said. "As I've already explained, you won't be doing any of that ever again. Now tell me the name of your boss. I know their true avatar hides somewhere in this town, probably in this church. Just tell me how to get to them and then I'll deal with them myself."

"There must be another way," Duncan said. "A deal we can make, some way to keep this from ending in blood."

"You and your boss already shed enough blood to fill a barrel. I won't lose sleep if I must add yours into the mix."

"It won't be my blood you'll have to add," he said. "Challenge her directly and the entire town will fall along with you."

"I think I will risk it," Kyril said. "I am no expert of demon's hideout, but I spent thirty years of my life living on a temple. We have an idol, too, like this one," he said, and pointed at the statue of the Allmother behind him. "A phoenix instead of a woman with big tits, but still, the idea is the same. Behind that idol there are some stairs, almost invisible to the public. It led to the cells, it's where the monks slept at night." He walked up to the statue. "Now. There are no stairs behind this statue, but I bet the stairs in my temple were once hidden too." He turned to look at Duncan. The man had stood up, his fist running down his sides. So, what's the trick? A lever to pull? A button to push? Make it quick, I'm getting bored."

"Step away from the statue," Duncan said.

"Sorry, can't do." He put a hand on the flank of the idol and scratched it with a claw. "Don't worry though, I don't think I'll need your help. I'll just figure it myself - "

He could not end the sentence that a pitched cry filled the church. Something fast and heavy slammed against his side and sent both against the church's wall, cratering it as if it had been hit by a charging behemoth. The cracks spread to the pavement and to the ceiling and Kyril instinctively knew that entire part of the church was structurally compromised. He still couldn't see what had attacked him, but he could see its arm trying to grapple him and that was enough. He grabbed the red, scorched limbs that encircled him and freed himself from their grasp, then grabbed the creature's shoulder with one hand and sent him slamming against the doors on the other side of the church. The doors were made of solid, well maintained stone: the moment the creature crushed against them they went down as if they were made of paper, and the creature left a groove in the ground as it rolled down the marbled path. Kyril searched his body for injuries but found none. He scrolled off himself the fragments of stone and marble that had fallen above him and assumed a fighting stance.

The creature stood up. There was still something left of Father Duncan - the eyes and the fur on its head - but that was it. In the place of his mouth was now a beak-like muzzle filled with uneven teeth, It's body was now tall and thin, no skin covering it, flesh and muscle and bone exposed to the air and the elements. He could see part of the ribcage and the pelvis poking through the rotten flesh like shards of glass. Two large wings sprouted from his exposed shoulder blades, their membrane ripped and punctured. Every breath he took was raspy and his movements were frantic and spasmodic.

"Bloody hells," Kyril said. "What did that bitch do to you?"

Duncan didn't answer. He opened his mouth and another high-pitched scream tore his throat out, then launched himself at Kyril.

The tackle was slow and uncoordinated, dictated by pure anger and driven by body mass. Kyril took it in full chest, then clenched his fists together and dropped them on the monster's head. He heard something crack but he wasn't sure what The creature was thin but it wasn't brittle. It fell on the ground and Kyril tried to keep it down by dropping his feet on his back in hope the blow would break his spine. It did not, and it left enough space for the creature to retaliate with a direct blow to his balls. Kyril screamed and staggered back and by the time he had recovered the creature was over him again. This time he'd learned the lesson and refused to play a passive role. He instead grabbed the creature by the neck before it could get his hands on him and clenched his fingers hard, then raised the other arm and swatted Duncan's face with the back of his hand. The lower half of the beast's mandible broke and crumbled away into pieces, teeth and blood and fragments of bone splattering all over the floor. Duncan tried to retaliate in the same way, but the moment his hand hit Kyril's chin his wrist broke like a twig. Kyril kicked him in the belly with his lower leg and sent him to crash again against the wall.

"You fight like a dumb dog," he said. "Your mistress didn't even try to train you, did she? 'Let's give him the strength, that will be enough.'" He shook his head. "Fucking idiot."

Duncan tried to stand up, but Kyril was quicker. This time he was the one launching himself over him, and this time he was the one anchoring him to the wall. He punched him through the chest, but his hand went through his ribcage and the lungs and part of the spine without doing any visible damage. The creature screamed in pain, but when he pulled the arm out of him he was still on his feet and still struggled to gain the upper hand. One hand lashed too close to Kyril's face and cut his right eye in a perfect diagonal. Kyril roared in pain, blood pouring for his damaged eye. He pressed Duncan's head against the wall with one hand and used the other to pull on the monster's shoulder until it came out of its socket. Blood spurted from the severed arm like a fountain, splattering both Kyril and the floor below. "Piece of shit!" Kyril growled, then threw him on the ground once again. "Fucking waste of demon spunk!"

The feet fell on Duncan's back once again, harder this time. His body broke in two halves, a few bones the only thing keeping the two parts connected. He screamed in pain, but the abhorrent sound did not go on more than a few seconds. Kyril ended it by grabbing Duncan's head with both hands and then pulling, pulling until the neck broke and the bones separated and what few tendrils of rotten nerves and flesh kept Duncan's skull attached to the rest of the body tensed until they broke. The head flew out of Kyrils hands and rolled on the floor until it came to a stop at the feet of the Allmother's statue. Duncan's body fell limp on the ground, immobile aside from the pile of shit that started pouring out of his ass.

Kyril took a step back and looked at himself in the reflective glass of the windows to understand the extend of the damage done to his eye. It still bled like a fountain, which was not good considering the speed and power of a dragon's healing system. Kyril had sustained damage to the eyeball before and usually the eye stopped bleeding in minutes, while the entire organ was fully healed in a few days. Duncan's claws might have been poisoned - he felt more sluggish and drowsier than a fight like that should have made him, and his vision was blurry - but in that case he had nothing to do but wait for his body to filter the poison and then start to work on repairing the eye.

He was about to examine what was left of Duncan's body when a sound of someone running came from outside. He instinctively assumed a fighting position but quickly relaxed when he saw it was only Mika and Lorrain, the latter of which had both a sword on her side and a rifle in her hands. Even Mika had grabbed a Warhammer, as if ready to fight herself.

"Hi girls," he said. "How's the feast going?"

"Kyril," Mika said. They looked around and marveled at the mess that had been done to the church until their eyes fell on the corpse a few feet where Kyril stood. "By the gods, what in the nine hells is that thing?"

"Your beloved parish, I reckon," he said. "At least what's left of him. The demon he swore fealty to wasn't generous when she lent him some of her power, let me tell you."

Lorrain took a step forward. "You're telling me that thing is Father Duncan?"

"Aye. Also the culprit of the murders. Before you accuse me of anything, he started it. I wanted him alive - needed to know where his boss is. Still, I think we can manage without him. Now we must - "

"Hold on," Mika said. She walked toward him, her gaze on his face. "What happened to your eye?"

Kyril shrugged. "Me being an idiot, that's what happened. Got too arrogant and this is the result. Claw must have been poisoned because I also feel like shit, but that doesn't matter now. We need to - "

"We don't need to do anything until we've fixed that eye of yours," Mika said. "Shouldn't it have stopped bleeding by now?"

"That's what convinced me the claw was poisoned."

"You need to see a healer," she said. "And you need to eat something, too. I haven't seen you eat in days."

"Hold on with the mama bear attitude and listen to me for a second. Father Duncan might have been the murderer, but he was a mere pawn. His master hides here somewhere, probably under the church if I had to guess. We need to find her and get rid of her once and for all."

"Her?" Lorrain said. "How do you know it's a female?"

"I met her a couple of time," he said. "Didn't say anything because I wasn't sure. I am sure now, and I'm telling you we need to end it as soon as possible. She'll know I have killed his toy by now and I can't even imagine what kind of horrific shit she's thinking of to get her revenge."

"Are we about to get attacked?" Lorrain said. "Do I need to declare the state of emergency again?"

"Not for now. I don't think her true avatar can escape whatever place she's been summoned in right now, or the whole town would be dead already. That's why Father Duncan was killing people, or leading fake Masses - so he could give her enough strength through worship and blood, -"

Lorrain's eyes widened. "He made us worship demons?"

"Yes, but the damnation of your immortal soul is the last of your worries right now. The fact that her avatar cannot escape her summoning place only means she has to get creative about which kind of creature she can send against us now. I don't think she has enough power to summon the truly dangerous ones, but no doubt she's got enough to make it a problem for the entire town."

"So what do we do?" Lorrain asked.

"You?" he said, furrowing his eyebrows. "You bring something to bandage my eye and maybe something to eat and drink to help my body filter the poison. Then you and the rest of the town lock themselves up in your homes and don't come out until I say so. Understood?"

"You want us to hide while you risk your life fighting a demon?" Mika asked.

"Yes, that's exactly what I want," he said. "You'd just slow me down."

"Why?" Lorrain said, her eyes narrowed. "Because we're women?"

"No, because you're a human with a gun and an old minotaur with rheumatism." Mika grunted. Kyril scowled. "You know I'm right. It's the reason why you called me here. Just let me do my damn job and it'll be over by morning."

"No, it won't," Mika said. "Regardless if I can help your or not, I have more experience than you and I'm telling you this is too easy. Kill the minion and take down the mastermind behind the whole operation in one night alone? It's a child's story. Something doesn't add up."

"Feiras usually says that nothing goes how you expect it to go," Kyril said. "I don't think this will be an exception, but you trusted me with the feast - kept Duncan alone and isolate so I could face him, and it worked. You just need to trust me again."

"We trust you," Lorrain said, to his surprise. "But going alone cannot be the right decision."

"Unless you are hiding another dragon somewhere in town, it is. You're staying here, I'm going in. That's all."

"But going where?" Mika said, her voice full of frustration. "We don't even know where it may be hiding."

Kyril said nothing. He gave them his back and walked up to the statue. He examined it for a while, even knocked his knuckles over it once and twice, then put his hands over it. "This is solid marble," he said. "It must have cost a fortune. Am I right?"

"Standing to the town records, you are," Lorrain said.

"Then I'm sorry."

"For what?"

Kyril grabbed the statue with both hands and pulled it off the floor. A cloud of dust rose from the ground but once it disappeared it revealed a giant trapdoor with a heavy padlock attached to it. He moved the statue away with ease and lay it down sideway next to him. Mika and Lorrain took a few step closer. "What the hell is that?" Lorrain said.

"I take this is not in the plans of the building?"

"I knew nothing of this since you revealed it."

"Surprise, surprise," Kyril said. He lowered his head and saw the trapdoor was covered in glyphs and runes. Most of it he couldn't read, and what could read told him nothing good. "I think these may be curses of some kind," he said. "This alone is a good reason to go solo. Don't think they would mean much to me, but it wouldn't be any good for you two." He raised a paw and traced some runes on the wood himself with his thumb's claw and once he was done stood up and turned toward them. "Right, this should buy us some time," he said.

"What did you do?"

"Rudimentary entrapment spells, just to make sure nothing comes out while I prepare," he said. "Now, can somebody please bring me a bandage or something? I think I lost enough blood to fill a pool."

They brought him the bandages, and food and water to restore his energy and ease the effect of the poison. He took care of the eye and gulfed down the food and the water like a starving direwolf. Lorrain went back to the feast and declared the celebration over. He told the townsfolk to leave things as they were and her and her men would take care of it in the morning. She did not tell them about Kyril and Father Duncan, nor about the demon he were to face soon, but she did tell them that they didn't need to fear the full moon and that they could go home and sleep knowing nobody would die tonight. They left thanking the mayor for the feast and crying with happiness at the reassurance that none of their loved ones risked being found dead in the morning. When she returned to the church she found Mika and Kyril staring at the trapdoor. She walked up to them.

"Things are done," she said. "They'll go home and won't come out until I say so. Now what?"

Kyril shrugged. "Now I go in."

He raised both his front legs and punched through the hard wood with both hands, and when he pulled them back the trapdoor came off its hinges as if it were glued to them with spit. A great stair of a thousand steps and more opened below them, each step more engulfed in darkness than the precedent. "Damn," Kyril said. "This could be a problem.

"I think we already knew that," Lorrain said.

"No, I mean it could be a bigger problem than I thought."

Mika glared at him. "What do you mean?"

"Dragons are good at seeing in the dark," he said. "For us, the night is as clear as the day. We're nocturnal creatures and the darkness has never scared us."

"And your point is?"

"My point is dragon or not, I can see absolute fuck down here."

Lorrain and Mika exchanged confused looks. "Well, what does that mean? Is it a particular kind of darkness? A defense of sort?"

"No idea," he said. He put a foot on the first step. "Alright then, I'm going. If I don't come back in three days seal the damn hole shut, find a magician or a sorcerer or whatever and cover this whole place in protective runes and then leave it the fuck alone. All clear?"

Lorrain huffed. "You're enjoying this again, are you?"

"Me? Enjoying myself?" he laughed. "Perish the thought."

Slowly, carefully, he started climbing down the stairs.

CHAPTER 3

***

Do you understand the pain? Do you love the torment? I saw you once from the distance and I had to meet you. I felt we were alike, you and. I spoke to you and you spoke to me and I felt that everybody else might have burst into flames and died right there and then, and I wouldn't have felt any grief if we had been left alone forever.

Perhaps we will.

***

The dark was not darkness, even though it tried to be. The shadows were false, painted in the air like on a canvas. He climbed down the steps holding his breath and when he reached the bottom he felt as if he were walking through water. The air was thick and dusty, the air of a closed space that was only opened rarely. The walls were black and uneven, carved in the raw stone by aether wielded by an imperfect hand. There was no light and all he could feel was felt by his other senses. He smelled water but it was far away, and he smelled blood and that was closer than he liked. He heard something drop from somewhere in the distance and voices that covered it almost perfectly, whispers in his ears he could not discern from voices he did not recognize. The shadows did not fully win though: he could see the floor up to two steps ahead of him before the black consumed it, so on he went, one feet after the other. More than once he felt as if something touched him, a hand or a talon or a tail, and more than once he heard the voices of people he knew calling his name from the dark, but he did not listen to them. He kept on walking, his head low to protect his chest and his tail between his legs to protect his balls.

He went on, his heart beating so hard he thought it could bust out of his ribcage while the air got thicker and the shadows became more oppressive. They spoke to him now, spoke to him directly, and with every step their voices became stronger. "Stay with us," they said. "The light is your enemy," they said. "We are the darkness of the night, the shadows of an unbroken egg. You were born in us, and in us you can return," they said. "We loved you once," they said, "we will love you again."

"No," he said, and went on.

When he saw the first trace of light he almost couldn't believe it. It looked as if it were a million miles away, but he could clearly see a gush of light filtering through a door. He fought his way to that door, biting and scratching and clawing at the shadows to leave him alone, and when he reached it he pressed both hands on it and then brought it down with a barge of his shoulder.

Light inundated his vision in a fraction of a second with such force he thought he might have gone blind. It took him a moment for his good eye to recover and make sense of his surroundings.

He found himself in a great cave, shadows dancing in its corners. The cave was a perfect dome, its walls so smooth they reflected the light and everything in it. The pavement was smooth too and he had to sink his claws in it to avoid slipping. On the center of the cave was a red pond, and he didn't need to smell it to know it was blood. It was surrounded by a line of chalices, each one identical to the other - black, with four lines at the sight. Inside the pond there was an island of black stone, and on that island was the Lady of Chalices. She sat cross-legged in a circle made of glyphs and runes which he knew he wouldn't be able to read, her hands on her knees and her head leaned over slightly. Even as she sat, she was more than six feet tall. Her hips were ample and her breasts were great, just as they were in the human body she had assumed in his vision, but her skin was the color of bronze and she had no face.

"Well, Kyril," she said without a mouth, her voice rumbling in his mind. "Here we are."

Kyril stood up. He brushed the dust off himself and walked up to the pond. He pushed a leg beyond the chalices and saw there was no force trying to push back.

"You didn't even try to put on defenses?" he said. "Honestly, I'm a bit offended."

"Oh, I have put some countermeasures here and there," she said. "I hope I won't have to use them."

"You still think you can solve this by talking?"

"Maybe," she said. "Or would you perhaps prefer to tear each other apart like wild beasts?"

"Maybe," he said. "To be honest, I'm not sure you have something left to say that I want to listen to. You're a demon. The only thing you can try to do is tempt me, and I fail to see what you could tempt me with."

"Oh, there is always something with mortals," she said. "Something they want, something they need, something they believe they want and something that they want only because someone else has it. I reckon I would be able to work up something for you, too." She laughed. "But not tonight. Tonight I want to have an honest talk with you, monster to monster. Promise me in this sole talk, this singular instance, you will always tell the truth, and I promise I will do the same."

Kyril barked a laugh. "Why the hell would I agree with that?"

"Because you're curious," she said. "As am I."

"Curious of what? Why you decided to infest this town among the thousand of settlements in Treguria?"

"No," she said. "Curious to know if I really wanted to fuck you or not."

Kyril didn't answer. He glared at her with narrow eyes for a moment, took a step back and sat down. "I swear, in this one and only conversation, I shall only speak the truth to you."

"And I swear the same," she said. "With the exception that, since you don't know your true name, I won't tell you mine if you ask me to."

"How do you know I don't know my true name?"

"I have my ways, and I used them to learn this little quirk of yours."

"That's a vague answer."

"We promised we would tell each other the truth," she said. "We never specified how precise we had to be."

Kyril snorted. "Alright, since you already brought it up: would you really have fucked me, had I given you the chance?

"Oh yes, absolutely. Not only that, I would have let you lead. My favorite way to make love is hard and fast, and I like my males to take the lead. But the specimens worthy of that are astonishingly rare."

"So I'm one of the lucky few."

"Don't let it go to your head. Any male dragon would have been fine. Sadly they're so very rare these days... and while you're young, you're also a very good specimen."

"And what would have you asked in exchange?"

"Oh, the usual things. Subservience, absolute obedience to my every order, satisfaction of my every whim. Things like that."

"Feels like there one side that is definitely gaining more than the other."

"You never had sex with a demon, have you?"

Kyril huffed. "Is this what you did with Father Duncan?" he asked. "Fucked the man and then turned him into your puppet?"

"Who, the parish?" he could hear the disgust in her voice as if it were his own. "Hells below, no. He was a deplorable wreck when I found him, killing rats and bugs for fun and molesting females younger than his age. There was so much dark in his heart already that all it took to fall in my hands was me touching his cock once. Even his semen was weak and watery. He came on my hands and I cleaned them on his face, and he thanked me for it. It was the happiest day of his life - the closest he ever came to having sex with a female."

"So why did you choose him?"

"Desperation. My spiritual form was almost dead when I found him. Someone had dealt me a terrible hand of cards, but I did what I could with what I had."

"Which means 'not much', from what I've seen."

She laughed. "You didn't like the little modifications I made to him, I take?"

"He was barely trained," Kyril said. "Had it not been for a lucky swing of his claws, I would have taken no damage from our battle."

"But damage did you take, still," she said, and shook her head. "Regardless, I would not have given you the same treatment. You would have been my jewel - the best of my collection. I would have you wear a cock ring of pure gold to drive attention to your virility, and a set of armor in diamond and obsidian to intimidate your enemies. You'd have had multitudes of servants, all females, to satisfy all your needs. You'd have had me, whenever I felt in the mood to indulge you."

"Sounds nice," he said. "Still wouldn't buy it."

"No, of course not," she said. "Your species doesn't know servitude, or so they say. More is the pity."

Kyril raised his head. A large flame burned above their heads, the source of the light that kept the place lit. "Is that a demonic flame?"

"Yes," she said. "The biggest I could summon thanks to the parish's help."

"Not a great help."

"Oh, he helped enough," she said. "Demonic flames are commodities in the earthly realms, and I cannot waste what little energy I have."

"As I said, not a great help."

Her amusement changed into curiosity again. "You seem displeased by the parish's poor efforts in helping me," she said. "Why? Do you think you could have done more?"

"No, but I'm starting to understand why you decided to infest Ribia over a bigger settlement."

"And that is?"

"You're weak. Weaker than you'd like to think. The fact that you decided to attack a small town mostly inhabited by humans speak for itself. Had you tried this whole thing with a minotaur camp or a kobold colony, they wouldn't have needed to call me," he said. "They would have kicked your sorry ass back into hell before you could even say 'ah'."

This time it was the Lady's turn to be silent. "I won't deny, I am not what I could be," she said. "But the humans suit my need just fine, and so I used them."

"And aren't you ashamed of that?"

"No," she said. "Would you be?"

His eyebrows furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"Come on now, Kyril," she said. "We swore we would tell the truth. You want me to believe you do not think these townsfolk as inferior to you as I do?"

"Do I look like a demon to you?" he said. "I do not - "

A sudden pain hit his chest, as if a hand of steel had gripped his heart and squeezed with all its might. The pain was so strong he almost fell to his knees, and the Lady of Chalices laughed.

"What did you do to me?" Kyril snarled.

"You made a deal with a demon, my dear," she said. "No matter how small it is, there will be consequences if you break it. Now be a good boy and tell the truth."

"I said," Kyril repeated. "I said I don't - "

Another fit, more pain. This time he did fell to his knees, his vision going white for a moment. The Lady laughed harder than before and slapped her knees at the spectacle.

"You are a marvel, Kyril," she said. "You really are. Are you truly telling me you'd rather suffer than acknowledge your obvious superiority to them? The disgust you feel when you look upon them? Can you not admit you and I are more alike than you and them?"

Kyril didn't answer. He couldn't let her win, not like that, so he thought about the question and he thought about he answer and he thought about the truth and the vagueness of the truth he could tell her before he answered.

"Yes," he said. "Yes, I do think they are inferior. I think they're inferior because they don't have my scales, nor my strength, nor my fire, but a dragon stronger than me would think the same of me. Just because they are inferior it does not mean they don't deserve to live their lives and be happy."

"But they do disgust you, do they not?"

Kyril gritted his teeth. "Most of them, yes."

"And you'd rather stay away from them - you'd rather stay alone than stay with most of them. Wouldn't you?"

"I would, yes. But not always."

"What does that mean?"

"It means..." he trailed off, the pain in his chest strong but manageable. "It means... not... always."

The Lady raised her hands from her knees and clenched them under her chin. "Peculiar," she said. "Very peculiar. Let me ask you this, then: why did you come here, really? Did you wish to prove yourself to your master, or did you think you owed some kind of debt to Mika? Did you really want to save the people of this town, or did you simply hope she would let you fuck her after freeing it from the monster, as a sign of gratitude? Or maybe put a couple calves in her belly, to keep her company in the long years of her old age?"

"None of them," he said. "I wanted... I wanted to fight."

"Be more specific."

"I knew it was likely a demon was involved in this whole thing before I even arrived here," he said. "I wanted to see if I could beat an enemy of that caliber alone, without any help."

"You wanted to test your might?"

He grunted.

"Did you care that someone had died before you intervened, and that someone else could have died if one of your plans based on hints and hunches failed?"

He grunted again and shook his head. The Lady smiled. "You would make a good demon," she said.

"Go fuck yourself."

"If I could, I would," she said. "Listen to me. Right now, we are both in the position of killing each other. I'd say you have slightly more chances to destroy my vessel than I yours, but the wounded eye and the poison are working against you, even if your body is dealing well with them. I propose a second deal with you."

"And that is?"

"Mate with me," she said. "Rut me right here, right now. I swear I won't try to harm or trick you in any way possible during and after our union, nor will I try to heighten your pleasure with supernatural tricks - which with much probability wouldn't work on you anyway, being a dragon. I'll let you sample my flesh for free, as long and as hard as you want. If by the end of our mating you will still be convinced the pleasure is not worth the price, I'll destroy this vessel myself." She spread her arms. "If, instead, the pleasure is stronger than your will, and you see it worth the cost of your freedom, I will welcome you in my bosom with open arms, and you'll become my warrior - the Champion of Chalices." She put down her hands again. "Choose now. The demon's deal, or the battle to the death. It's all in your hands."

Kyril hesitated. On one hand, he knew he should just kill her and be done with it. She tried to make it seem as if she had a chance to win, but he could feel her power and she didn't have enough to oppose him. On the other hand, a dragon never refused what is freely offered.

"You know already what I'll chose," he said.

A thin line opened on the Lady's face like a crack on a wall and uncovered a set of sharp white teeth as it twisted into a smirk. She stood up and Kyril saw at her full height she was as tall as he was, then she raised her arms and opened her hands as if inviting him. "Your move, Kyril," she said, a black tongue licking her lips. "Show me how a dragon makes love."

Kyril roared. He jumped through the bloody pond onto the island and buried his head in the Lady's belly. Her body was hard, but not harder than his own. The demon went down the floor, her claws scraping the rock under them. "If you wanted me on my back," she said. "You could have just asked."

"No fun in that, is there?"

He dropped on all fours and tried to bury his snout between her legs. She laughed and kicked at his head, again and again, until she got his wounded eye and made him roar in pain. At that point Kyril grabbed her leg by the calves and gripped them hard and anchored them to the ground. His muzzle found his way to her sex and he buried it in there. She smelled like charcoal and burned flesh and something else he could not recognize, but as weird as it was it had a labia and a clitoris and that was enough for him. He started licking and biting his way from her thigh to her crotch to her slit, and once he was sure she was wet enough he ran his tongue from the bottom of her sex to its top and then pushed his tongue inside her. He did not do it because he cared about her well being or because he did not want to hurt her, but simply because he wanted to make her come as fast as possible, as hard as possible. He had to make clear who was in charge from the beginning. He pushed his tongue in as far as it could go and twisted it in the way only a creature with a two feet long tongue could, filling ever empty space and crevice he could find. The Lady moaned as copious amount of juices started to run down her legs and on his snout and then she laughed.

"I know what you're trying to do, little dragon," she said. "You won't accomplish it if you don't change strategy."

He pulled his tongue out, saliva and secretions splattering on her crotch and running down his neck. "Shut up," he said, and wrapped his lips around his clitoris. The lady moaned again as he started to suck, roughly and brutally, his teeth pulling on the sensible organ as if about to pull it off. Every time he pulled the demoness groaned and her legs kicked. Eventually he let go of her ankles to grab her ass instead and her legs wrapped around his head and pulled him deeper. Her right hand grabbed his head to keep him in place while the other's fingers were pushed inside of her, pushing at her walls and playing with her folds. Kyril spread his maw more and sunk his teeth on both sides of her crotch, for the first time genuinely trying to make her feel pain, but all he got in exchange was another, louder moan and a squirt of juices down his throat. Her fluids were thick and dense and burned his tongue like demonic flame, but he swallowed them without complaint and his only reward was another moan and another gush straight down his gullet. The Lady laughed again, her smirk as wide as it got.

"By the nine hells," she said. "You're not afraid to play with fire, are you?"

He wanted to answer, tell her that playing with fire was something all dragon hatchlings did. Instead he went back to suck on her clit harder, his tongue playing with it roughly and incessantly, until her smirk became a mumble and her legs thighs started trembling around his head. She gripped him by the horns with both heads and started to hump his snout like a beast.

"Yes, like this," she cackled. "Do it like this, you bastard..."

She came then, wild and unbridled, her folds spasming and the juices exploding out of her and onto and into his face. They fizzled and burned like acid and when some of it fell on his damaged eye he almost roared in pain, but he did not. Instead her fucked her with his tongue through the orgasm, and by the time she was barely over with it he was ready to push her into another one. Her legs quivered and her feet kicked again, but he refuse to stop until a second climax hit her. Her whole body shook in pleasure, and she threw her head back to let out a high pitched scream that hurt his ears. Once again he kept working on her through the orgasm, and he would have pushed her toward a third if she had not kicked him in the face again, this time harder and with better precision. The blow made him let go and his tongue slipped out of her, fresh fluids spilling everywhere. He got on a fighting stance and breathed in the hot air of the cave as he prepared for another blow that did not come. Instead all he got was the sight of the demoness with her back against the wall and her legs retracted on themselves, her whole body shaking. She was still cackling.

"Not bad," she said, the smirk on her face now predatory. "Not bad indeed. Will you allow me to return the pleasure?"

"You said I was in charge."

"You are," she said. "That's why I'm asking you permission."

Kyril didn't answer. He jumped on her again and planted his posterior feet at the sides of her basin and one hand pushed against the wall, while the other grabbed her head and slammed it against his cock. He was already hard, full mast, rivers of pre running down his legs and balls pumping and beating like hearts. He pressed her face against all of that and she cooed, grabbing his balls with both hands and kneading them as gently as he had done with her sex and inhaled his musk like a fine perfume. He growled. "Open your mouth."

"As you wish," she said, and the moment her lips were wide enough he shoved his whole length down her throat, hilting himself inside her down to the balls. He hoped she choked on it, or at least gagged, but she did neither. Her took his cock with ease, knobs and ribs and all, and then it was her turn to grab at his ass as he face-fucked her against the wall until it cracked. Every push was a spur of pre-cum down her throat, but she seemed not even to notice it. She simply took it, her hands passing from his balls to his hips to balance herself. Sperm and saliva fell on her mouth and onto her breasts and belly with each shove and Kyril had the feeling she was doing it on purpose. When the pressure in his loins started to build up past the point of no return he grabbed her head with both hands and started humping even harder before burying his cock in her throat as far as it went.

"There," he growled. "Fucking take it - "

And take it she did. A monumental amount of seed exploded into her gullet and jetted straight onto her stomach, an entire stream whole and uninterrupted. It went on for minutes, his balls throbbing and pulsating, her throat and belly bulged and stretched, but again she did nothing to stop him. She just moaned and took him, just as he had said.

He was almost done when he felt her legs sweep him off balance. Taken by surprise his cock slipped out of her mouth and he fell on his back as a deluge of cum spurted on him and her and the wall behind her. He growled and tried to get back on his feet, but the demoness put a foot on his stomach and anchored him to the floor.

"Not so fast, my love," she said. "You showed me some of your tricks. Now it's time I show you some of mine."

She pushed his knees apart and positioned herself over his cock. It still let out jets of semen, as if refusing to end its orgasm. "I have to admit, you have an impressive tool for a dragon so young," she said, and gave him another smirk. "Shall we see if I can handle it?"

They both knew she could. All she was doing was teasing him, and he was about to complain when she spread her knees and impaled herself on his cock in one single swift motion. Kyril let out a roar so intense that it hurt his throat, and the demoness screamed in satisfaction.

"Oh, yes," she said, once her voice returned. "It has been such a long time..."

Kyril growled. He grabbed her by the hips and thrusted inside her before she could give the first pump, forcing a surprised, angry moan out of her mouth. "Just bloody get to it," he said.

"You have no patience," she spat at him, her teeth gritted. "Once you're mine, I will make sure you learn its importance."

"I have nothing from you learn to you," he said. "Now get to it, or I will."

Her only response was to relax her muscles and raise to the top of his shaft, a glistening residue of her fluids left in her trail, before slamming herself down to the roots of his cock. Kyril grunted, and the grunting continued as she did it again and again. Her cunt was as tight as a finger trap and as strong as a vice. No matter how or why she had fashioned her body like that, he had to admit she had done a good job. He could feel every imperfection of her walls, every crack and crevice, and though with every descent she took him down to her most extreme depths she never screamed in pain, only in pleasure. He felt his climax come quick and strong, and as the need rose she smiled down at him knowingly.

"We're about to text the extent of your willpower, my love," she said.

Kyril growled. He was about to lose control, they both knew that, but he could feel her through her folds and he knew she was close too. He waited and waited and once he saw an opening through the trembling of her arms and the shaking of her torso she grabbed her by the hips and slammed her on her back, anchoring her to the ground with all his weight. She screamed in rage and frustration, but now she could do nothing more than try to met his thrusts mid-way as he pumped inside her with all the strength he had in his body.

"You bastard," she spat as drool fell from her mouth. "You disgusting worm -"

Kyril didn't hear her. He was to focused on his movements, his shoves, the grinding of his crotch against hers. He still came first despite everything, a sea of white filling her infernal womb at once and stretching it down to its absolute maximum before it jetted back out, but it did not take long before the feeling of being so thoroughly filled got her too. Her eyes started to flutter and her body twitched, her legs kicking spasmodically against his thighs as they both were lost in their orgasms. Kyril had come first, but the Lady finished later, and she was still coming when he rolled her on her belly with his cock still inside her and pushed her head and shoulder down against the ground, in the pool of juices they had created. They were still joined at the crotch and Kyril made sure to let her know it with a quick shove that made her grunt.

"Not bad," he growled. "Now let's see if you can take it like a dragoness."

"I've rutted with the worst beasts of the Nine Hells," she said. "Being taken like a female of yours will not be the thing that break me."

"We shall see about that," he said, and started thrusting.

They went on like it forever, fucking and coming in a mess of limbs and bites and scratches, the cave resonating with his growls and her moans and the sound of flesh being lacerated every time a bite found its target or a claw slashed his torso. They came and came and came, every orgasm easier to come and harder to get through than the precedent, but neither wanted to surrender, neither wanted to give up. Their hatred was absolute, the disgust for each other pure, and yet it fueled the lust in them as if it were oil poured onto the open flame. Soon the blood of dragon and demon both joined the pool of mixed fluids in which they were fucking, and they continued undaunted. Any sense of time was long lost, and nothing mattered to them if not reaching the next climax, receiving more pleasure, and if one of them remembered they were doing this for a reason, to see who the better lover was, the one worthy of obedience, they did not seem to care anymore.

The infernal flame was almost dead when they couldn't take it anymore. Their orgasms had turned into one continuous release that had left both numb to any other sensation, and they both collapsed with Kyril's cock still buried inside the demoness and his hands kneading her breasts so hard it almost hurt. They breathed, deep and long breaths that barely seemed to help, and then Kyril rolled off her, and then it was over. Breathing and shaking they let the last of their climaxes make their course, and once they were done silence reigned in the cave, lone and absolute.

And then the Lady of Chalices started to laugh. It was a cackle, a screech, the sound of an hysterical woman mixed with the roars of a wild beasts. Kyril turned on his side and somehow managed to get on his feet, his legs unsteady, almost expecting an attack of sort.

The attack did not come.

"Hells below," the demoness said, her breath still labored, "Hells below, what in the Stillborn's name was that?" she cackled again. "Oh lords, oh lords below, I cannot remember... cannot remember the last time I've been fucked this hard." She looked at him, no eyes but a mouth full of sharp teeth to show him her elation. "What did you do to me, you disgusting bastard? Was it all your plan instead of mine, to bring me here and make me addicted to your cock?" Another cackle. "Well, you did it. Who the else would be left now? Nobody, certainly not in this plane." She clawed at her swollen belly. "Oh, lords below, I hope I'll have hatchlings... a dozen would be enough, but I wouldn't mind having two or three..."

"You're insane," Kyril said.

"Why not?" she said. "Why wouldn't I be? I'm the Lady of Chalices, you dumb fuckwit! I can be whatever the hell I want!" and the laughter continued.

"What about our deal?" he said. "We... we rutted as you wanted, but I did not fall for you. Now..."

"Now?" she said. "Now I fell for you, my love. Hells, I want to jump on you right now. If only my legs didn't feel like shit, am I right?" she threw her head back. "You're free to go, you little bastard. We will meet again, and I assure you, you will be mine then."

"But what about our deal?" he insisted. "You said if I didn't become your slave, you would have destroyed your own vessel."

The demoness stayed silent for a moment. Then smirked. "Oh, love," she said. "Oh dear. Can't you see? The situation has changed. Now my vessel is not mine anymore. I can see life blossoming in me, like flowers from mud. From the semen you so kindly donated. I cannot destroy it any more than I can destroy you."

Kyril's eyes widened. "You bloody bitch!" he said. "This was your plan all along!"

"Maybe," she said, "Or maybe I just made it up as I got along. Who knows, am I right?" she smiled. "Don't worry, though, I'll leave this pathetic excuse for a town alone. After all, who has use for a bunch of ruins?"

"What? What are you talking about?"

The Lady of Chalices cackled. The air inside the dome started vibrating, and the vibrations grew and grew until the wall started cracking and the ceiling started crumbling. Kyril launched himself against the demoness, but she disappeared in a cloud of dust before he could even touch her. The vibrations were now growing into an earthquake as the entire dome started imploding on itself.

"Oh shit," Kyril said. "Oh bloody hells, what have I done - "

A huge rock came apart from the ceiling right over him. Kyril jumped over the pond right before it crushed onto his head and ran up the stairs. The darkness tried to trap him again, but this time he barely noticed it as he climbed up the steps to the surface. He found the entrance blocked by a metal plate and only then remembered he had told Mika and Lorrain to seal the entrance if he hadn't come back in three days.

"Gods be damned," Kyril said. He opened his jaws and a column of fire poured out them.

Dragons didn't breathe fire often. Dragonfire was able to melt or harm almost everything in existence, including other dragons. It was less a substance or a weapon and more like a creature with a life of its own. Using it hurt the user as much as it hurt their enemy, and like any other creature it did not like to be imprisoned again once it was unleashed. Theslab of metal melted the moment the fire touched it, but it took him a while to take control over the flames and push them back into his chest, and it hurt.

He leapt out of the trapdoor and realized the church too shook as if about to collapse. He ran out of the building as the first stones fell behind him and saw the townsfolk run out of their homes screaming and crying as the earth under their feet ruptured. The ground started to give away, enormous sinkholes opening around them as sudden as autumn rain, swallowing houses and buildings and everything else they found on their paths.

"Go to the cliff! Leave the town!" he yelled. "Cliff, forests, doesn't matter! Just leave the town's area!"

No matter how hard he yelled, the screams of the people covered his voice. He didn't know what to do to attract attention if not roar and he doubted that would calm them down. He saw the earth give away under an old man with a child on his shoulders and he leapt on them to grab him by the arm, but he put too much strength into the grasp and the moment his fingers closed around the man's wrist they tore it cleanly from the rest of his body and he and the child fell screaming into the black void below. He stayed there, paralyzed, his eyes wide with shock. For the first time in his life he'd tried to save the life of somebody who needed his help in that very instant, and he'd failed.

"Kyril!"

Kyril turned, his eyes narrowed, the severed hand still spitting blood in his grasp. Mika was running toward him, half naked and covered in blood. She was trying to say something, but he didn't listen. She was strong enough for him to touch without her crumbling under his fingers, so he flew at her and grabbed her by the shoulders and brought her on top of the cliff as she screamed her head off, as far away from the town as he could at the moment.

"Kyril," she said, the moment they touched the ground. "Kyril, gods above, I thought you were dead!"

"Aye aye, we'll talk about it later. Where's Lorrain?"

"I don't know. I don't know where anybody is. I was sleeping and suddenly the earth started to swallow my house. I ran outside and I saw the whole town was sinking in the ground. Then I saw you - "

"Alright, I understand. Listen, I'm going back to Ribia, I'll try to save as many people as possible. You stay away from the town and don't try to - "

He couldn't end the sentence before another tremor struck. He glanced down and saw the town had been split apart by a huge crack that was spreading through the area like a living disease, a sound like a thunder splitting the air in half. He jumped down the cliff and started circling over the town, but there were too many, way too many, and he was alone and tired. He grabbed the ones close to him and brought it back to the cliff as fast as he could, and he did it again and again until his muscles ached and his breath got rugged. More and more he saw the people getting swallowed by the earth before he could reach them, and there was nothing he could do but keep flying, keep trying to save lives.

"Kyril!"

Once again he turned. This time it was Lorrain: she stood over the roof of the Town Hall, half of the building already lost into a sinkhole. Kyril flew toward her as fast as he could with what strength he had left. He hoped to regulate his strength as he grabbed her by the arms and carried her away by the Town Hall right before the ground gave in completely and swallowed the building whole. She brought her to the cliff with the others and the moment she touched the ground Mika ran to hug her, but Lorrain's eyes remained locked on his.

"Kyril, you - "

"We'll speak later," he said. He still had time to save somebody - he was sure of it. He gave them his back and opened his wings, but before he could do anything another earthquake hit the entire valley like the hammer of an angered god. The crack swelled and grew like a living thing and swallowed everything in its path with ravenous hunger. The entire town of Ribia sunk into the darkness in the blink of an eye, and the screams of the few remaining townsfolk were silenced as they sunk in with it. Kyril stood alone at the top of the cliff, his mouth agape in shock. His eyes scored the black hole where once rose Ribia and found nothing. It were as if the hole had always been there, and the whole town had been nothing but a hallucination.

He turned back. He saw the few surviving townsfolk holding each other as they cried for the loved ones they'd lost and the homes he would never return to and he did not know what to say. In the end his eyes fell on Mika and Lorrain, shocked, staring at him with wide open eyes as if waiting an explanation.

"I'm sorry," he said, and that was all that came out of his mouth.

It was over.

/

They stayed on the cliff. The survivors gathered some branches to make a fire while Kyril went to hunt some food. The townsfolk ate together around the campfire as the last tears froze on their faces and the reality of the situation sunk in. Kyril did not join them. He ate alone, far away from the camp. He was not hungry and every bite of the boar he'd hunted made him nauseous, but he had to eat. There was nothing for the survivors there, and whether they wanted it or not he was going to bring them to the nearest city so they could start a new life. Even being a beggar was better than die eaten by a direwolf.

It was almost nighttime when Lorrain and Mika joined him. They'd been speaking for hours before approaching him and thought he already knew what they wanted to know there was only one way this could go, and he knew he wasn't going to like it. They sat in front of him and stayed in silence for a while.

"Well?" Mika said.

"Well what?" Kiril said. His voice was little more than a whisper.

"Don't play with us, Kyril," Lorrain said. Her eyes were huge and full of rage. "We know you have something to do with this. What have you done?"

Silence.

"Kyril - "

"I fucked up," he said with a growl. "I fucked up. That's what happened. She got me, alright? She tricked me. I thought I was smarter and I fell right into her trap."

Mika's eyebrows furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"Her plan," he said. "The reason she was here. The murders and the fake Masses, they were all to gain power by worship and fear, but they were not enough. Then she saw me." He buried his head under his hands. "I thought she wanted to corrupt me - make me a puppet like she had done with Duncan, but no. She knew I'd never gave in to that. She just wanted my seed."

"Your... seed?" lorrain said. "Why in the nine hells would she want your seed?"

Kyril growled. "I don't know, why the fuck would a demon want a dozen of dragon hybrids at their complete orders?" he slammed a hand on the ground. "She knew she could get an army out of me the moment she saw me, and from that moment gaining power did not matter anymore. All she had to do was convince me to fuck her."

"Kyril, you were down that hole for more than a week," Mika said. "We all though you were dead, we mourned you, and now you're telling me you were just rutting with some, some demoness in need of more power?"

"No! No, listen, it's not like that," he said. "We made a deal, alright? She's, she must be a succubus, at least in part. We made a deal that if I succumbed to the pleasure she could give me I would become her champion, but if I won - if I won she would destroy herself, her vessel, and I did win, but then - "

"Then what?" Mika said, her voice loud. "Then she pulled up a trick and sticked her deal up your ass, am I right?"

"Mika, I swear I didn't - "

"What about Ribia?" Lorrain said, her voice shaking with anger. "What does all of that have to do with my town?"

Kyril shook his head. "I don't know," he said. "I think - I think it was some countermeasure of sort, if someone were to make it down there and defeat her she would just disappear, and the town would disappear with her. No traces to follow, no clues to find. I don't know how she managed to pull off a spell like that with what little energy she had, it doesn't - "

"Shut the fuck up!"

Silence fell on the cliff, not even the wind daring to blow. Lorrain was up on her feet, her fists clenched at her sides.

"We called you for help," she said, her voice low. "We called you to kill a monster. That's it, that was the only job you had to do. I did as you told me, I followed all your plans, and now my town doesn't exist anymore and my townsfolks are dead, you absolute fucking - "

"Lorrain, calm down," Mika said. She was angry, too, but there was a spark of understanding in her eyes. "I'm sorry things have gone this way too, but obviously things were bigger than we thought - "

"You!" Lorrain glared at her. "You do not get to speak. You told me your dragon could help us, could help the whole town, and now look! Our families and friends are dead, and all we had is gone forever." A sob came out of her throat. "This is all your fault."

"Lorrain - "

"This is all your fault!" she repeated. "Both of you! You killed my people! You destroyed my town!"

"Lorrain, please, we didn't kill anyone," Mika begged. "You heard Kyril. There was a demon. A demon, Lorrain. Kyril might have made mistakes, but if he hadn't been here we all would've died eventually. Everyone here right now is alive thanks to him."

"Yes," Lorrain said. "Yes. And everybody dead in that hole is dead thanks to him, too."

Kyril stood up. "Lorrain, I'm sorry," he said. "She tricked me. I swear to the gods she did. I really thought I was helping you, I truly wanted to - "

"Shut up!" she said. "You didn't want to help anybody. You never gave a shit about anybody. All you wanted to do was play war games with a demon, and if that demon wants to end it with a farewell fuck then all for the better, am I right?"

Kyril didn't answer. He had no words left to say. He looked at Mika in search for help, but she was silent too, her head between her knees. He turned back and saw the few survivors staring at him, the few ones who were done crying and had accepted their doom. He could see the anger on their faces, the terrible fury of who has lost everything without having done anything to deserve it. He could tell if they'd been able to kill him they would have done it, right there and then, but they couldn't. They couldn't because he was a warrior, because he was stronger and faster than they were, because he was better than them in almost every way imaginable.

Because he was a dragon.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry, Lorrain. I swear to the gods, I'll help you in any way I can. I'll fly you all to the closest settlement, I'll see you all are well cared for. I know some people, they're far away from her distant from here but if I put a good world in for you - "

"No."

He stopped talking and looked at her. "What?"

"I said no," she said. "As in no, I don't want your help. I don't want your pity. I don't care what you can do for us or how, I'm done with you." She put a hand on Mika's shoulder. "Mikalea is a friend. She's guilty of this too, but I know she meant well. You, thought?" She pointed a finger at him. "I want you to leave. I want you to leave right this instant."

"What?" he said. "Are you insane? You're in the middle of nowhere, with barely anything to your name. You'll die if you stay here."

"Our forefathers built Ribia with the sweat of their brow and the strength of their arms," Lorrain said. "We will do the same, and no dragon will be there to help us. That's all I have left to say." She wiped the tears on her face and glared at him, her gaze hard and unflinching. "Now leave."

Kyril stayed where he was. Not once in his life had he desired to be accepted by anyone but Feiras, not once had he longed for friends or companionship, but now he did, and he couldn't have them. He turned around, tried to find someone who did not stare at him with hatred in their hearts, but the only one was Mika and she didn't dare say anything to help him. For the first time in his life, he understood why most species didn't like to stay alone. And he understood he deserved it.

"I'm sorry," he said one last time. Then he spread his wings and flew away.

***

Forgive me, my love. I couldn't help myself.

You tried, you know. I'll give you that. You were very smart, figuring all that on your own. Nobody helped, did they? Nobody knew what to do, how to deal with it. And Mikaela was right - if it hadn't been for you, they all would have died eventually. I would have made sure of that.

Not to say you couldn't have done better, though. You failed to find out my real name, for starters. A little bit more pression on the parish and he would have told you everything. And what about the runes? That should have told you everything I had in store for the town... but you aren't one to read demonology books, are you? Of course not. The only way to deal with things is with your claws. How else would you do it?

Forgive me, my love.

Next time we meet, we'll see if we can settle the score.

***

He went back to the temple. He did not fly to do it. He was in the air for a few seconds before the weight in his chest got too big and the tremor of his wings made it impossible to follow the wind. He landed in the snow, amongst the pine trees, and from there he walked home.

On his way he met many beasts. Some were big and some small, some as weak as newborn kitten and some that even a dragon should have feared. None of them attacked him. They didn't even think about it. Just one sniff of him sent them running. Some went hiding as he passed, some flew away and never returned. He avoided towns and cities on purpose, and in the rare case he met another sapient being they fell on their knees and begged for mercy. They could all feel on him, the demon's stink, the evil's mark. Something had gone wrong, something had happened that was not supposed to happen. By the time he crossed the borders of Acayama and entered Southern Treguria no animals approached him anymore. Everywhere he went the silence deafened him.

When he arrived he didn't go straight to the temple. He went to see Gillipsia first, climbed up a cliff and looked at the city from above. Gillipsia was a great city with many inhabitants, and there were lights both night and day, explosions of color, expressions of civility in the vast wilderness. That night almost all the light were off. Only the light of the lighthouse was still on, and it would be until next morning, but not for him.

He went to the temple's entrance. "Feiras?" he called. "Feiras, I'm back. Are you there?"

She wasn't. Not an unusual thing: phoenixes are peculiar creature, like dragons, and they come and go as they please. He could wait for her. He decided to go visit Rully instead: he'd been alone for a while - the gods knew Feiras would not visit him - and he wondered how he was doing. He felt like they really had to have a talk about his obsession with killing things. He bet that if he got over that, they might become friends.

He reached his cave and the smell of ashes hit his nostrils like a punch in the nose. "Rully?" he said. "Are you there, mate?"

Rully didn't answer. He found his body curled up on himself, burned, his bones turned into glass, a work only a phoenix could do. A few feet away from him was a death bonfire, and on the bonfire was the body of a child impaled on a stick.

Feiras was right. He should have took care of him sooner. He had to thank her for doing it herself.

He climbed down the mountain and entered the temple, and for the first time since he'd left Ribia his eyes widened. The chrysanthemums Feiras had bought in Gillipsia before he left had somehow grown beyond their vase and the wall it leaned against, beyond the room and the corridor that brought to that room. He followed the trail of flower right to the hall of the altar, and at the feet of the great stone phoenix he saw a piece of white paper. A letter. On the front three words were written in an elegant calligraphy: 'For you alone.'

He opened it and started to read.

"Kyril,

I'm afraid this will be a long letter. I have many things to tell you. A few of them will be difficult to explain on paper, but I'll have to try. For you, and for me, and maybe for the rest of Soltaria too.

If you're reading this, it means I left the temple. I do not think I will return, for I do not think it is the place for me anymore. Please do not think this is your fault, because it isn't. It's mine. What I did to you the night before you left was unforgivable. Necessary, maybe, but unforgivable nonetheless. It was not my place to make you a dragon, nor was my right to turn you into an adult. It should have been a dragoness, one you knew and loved and respected. But you only had me, and so the duty was mine. The trouble is, I did not see it as a duty at all. Not while I was doing it - not while I rode you in your chambers, in the dark of the night. If it had only been sex, maybe I'd have been able to stomach it. Maybe I would have been able to still be your master, despite everything. But I did not mate with you like a dragoness initiating a male into adulthood. I mated with you like a phoenix would with her mate. I tried to control myself as much as I could and maybe you didn't even notice it, but I did, and that was enough to decide there was no ethical way for me to remain your master.

Another reason for which I left is because I do not think I have anything left to teach you. Everything you could learn from me you already learnt. Now it's up to you to teach yourself. I left a list of books in the library that I'm sure will help you in future - I'd be glad if you read them, but you can do as you wish. At this point, I cannot force you to do anything anymore. I still have something to say, though: not orders, but requests.

First thing first: one of the books I wrote on the list is my personal diary. If there is one book you'll read in that list, make sure it's that one. It contains an accurate recount of the adventures in my younger days, and I believe it has some information that may interest you. Some of them are rather intimate, but I think you and I are long past shame by now.

Second thing second: if you decide to leave the temple - as I suspect you will - then please, be careful. I know it's not in your nature to think before you act, but I'm afraid the world will be hard on you - it is for all dragons, I think, but you were born under a bad star. The gods will spare you nothing.

Third thing third: I've met many dragons in my life. Some of them were good creatures, worthy of love and praise. Many were not and I hated them with my whole body and soul. But each one was their own dragon, with their own beliefs, and they followed them even if it killed them. Always remember that it's apathy, not evil, that brings the world to ruin.

Now, one last thing. I presume that if you're holding this letter, it means your mission in the town of Ribia is over. If it has gone well, congratulations. I hope for you all your adventures will be like that, though I doubt it.

But if it has gone wrong - if you failed to help your friend, if people have died - then know this. In my religion, it is said that before passing to the afterlife you must fly around the whole word seven times for every creature whose death you caused, while carrying their souls on your back. Every soul will weigh on you like a mountain, and your whole body will be in eternal torment until every creature you murdered or left to die has had its turn. My grandfather told me this story when I was a little chick, and it put me off from becoming a warrior all my life. I'm an adult now, and I can see he only wanted me to live a quiet life away from danger - how sad would he be to see me now. What the story really means, once you analyze it, is this: for every action you take there are consequences. For every soul you kill, there will be someone to cry for it. Even the most monstrous, most evil creature was a child once, and maybe not all battles must end in bloodshed.

That is all. I have no more words for you. You're your own dragon now. You can do as you wish, follow any path you like. Grow a hoard, become a mercenary, make your own clan or spend the rest of your days fighting and fucking until one of the two kills you. It doesn't matter. What matters is that you do what you want to do. That is what dragons are: the absolute expression of ultimate freedom.

With all my love and all my blessings,

Feiras Feidian."

Kyril put the letter down. He went to the library and found a pile of books on a table and a satchel next to them. He threw them all away and grabbed the oldest looking one. He opened it and immediately recognized Feiras' calligraphy. He put it in the satchel, which then wrapped around his waist. It fit him perfectly and he wondered when Feiras had taken his measures or how she had done it. He turned back and considered burning the entire place down, but in the end he decided against it. Someone else would stumble into it one day, and it wouldn't be right to ruin it for them. He followed the trail of chrysanthemums outside and the cold air of the night blew against his face and made his bad eye hurt. It had started to heal, but it would take some time still. That was fine by him: he had all the time he wanted now. All the time in the world.

He spread his wings and flew away.