“I was looking for… the dragons…”
“You don’t have to speak too much, Clear,” Leon said, recognizing the pain and fatigue in the tau’s strained voice.
“I will… anyway,” sputtered Clear, a hint of strength returning to him as his aura subtly flexed.
A grateful smile graced Leon’s lips, and he settled back to listen.
“My search did not go well,” Clear said, some color returning to his cheeks. From what Leon could tell, he was using his power to heal any lingering damage that Ryonos missed and to lend his limbs some measure of strength. “At every turn, I was stonewalled. Some people I spoke with… seemed amenable to passing along a message… until I told them the message’s recipient. None of them wanted anything to do with the dragons.”
“As well they shouldn’t,” Serana said.
“There is a time and place for meeting with our Clans,” Ryonos agreed with a wry smile. “That time and place will always be of our choosing. Unless something sufficiently important forces our hand.”
‘So… you’re a dragon, too?” Clear asked. “You, I recognize…” His red eyes flitted to Serana for a moment before returning to Ryonos.
“I am Ryonos, heir to the Great White Dragon Clan,” the dark-skinned man said, the white scales at his temples framing his face and glittering in the bay’s light.
“Good to finally… meet you,” said Clear self-deprecatingly. “I wish it hadn’t come… after I’d failed in my task…”
“You didn’t fail,” Leon was quick to reassure. “At least, it wasn’t your fault.”
“I could’ve stopped it,” Clear said as he slumped a little more into his bed. “Had I been more careful. Had I been more attentive. I… let my guard down… and paid for that mistake.”
“Can you tell us what happened, specifically?” Leon inquired.
“I was considering my options,” Clear elucidated. “Belicenian officials had gotten me… nowhere. Others would help, I was sure… But before I could decide on who to approach… let alone how to make that approach… several Belicenian guardsmen arrived, accompanied by some Nexus Lord.”
“Did that Lord give their name?” Leon asked.
“Despot Jotomir.”
Leon didn’t recognize the name, and a glance at Ryonos and Serana indicated that they didn’t either—not that he was expecting much from the dragons at this point; involved with Nexus politics, they were not.
Helpfully, Clear explained, “He said that he served the Sun King. He flashed documents in my face, and his men surrounded me. I did not think I had done anything wrong… and I didn’t want to make trouble for you, Leon. I allowed myself to be taken away.”
Leon closed his eyes for a moment, tamping down his anger. “I… understand. I wouldn’t have begrudged you if you had run or fought, but… I appreciate your intention.”
Clear nodded bitterly. “I wish I had run. They took me to a dungeon and placed me in chains. My magic was sealed, and I was left alone for a full day. When next someone came to me, it was a young woman, flanked by a pair of Lords.”
“Was the woman Deianira?” Serana inquired, a vicious look in her eye.
“Yes,” Clear confirmed, his voice gaining strength as his power filled his body, “though it took some time for me to learn her name since she never gave it.”
“Did she order your capture?” Leon asked.
“I believe so. She asked too many questions about what I was doing for this to have been accidental or some misunderstanding. She wanted to know why I was looking to contact the dragons. She wanted to know who I worked for. She wanted to know what, exactly, I was, as she didn’t seem to need me to transform to know that I am not human.”
“The Sun King is renowned for his honor and sense of justice,” Ryonos said. “His daughter… is not.”
“She’s beyond reprehensible,” Serana said. “I have only had the displeasure of meeting her once, and she treated everyone around her like dirt.”
Leon gave his mother a long look, wondering if he should point out any similarities. In a brief show of wisdom, however, he held his tongue. This wasn’t the time for that.
“How much did you say?” Leon asked.
“I held nothing back,” Clear replied. “This wasn’t a clandestine task; I saw no reason to hide who I am or that I am sworn to you. When I gave that information, though… Deianira grew cold. Or colder, I should say. She accused me of working to sabotage the Games, of trying to cheat to help you win, of spying on her father for political gain… There wasn’t much coherence to it, but she seemed most affronted that I was trying to contact the dragons. I did not reveal why, so she… resorted to sharper measures to try and loosen my tongue.”
“You don’t have to go into detail there if you don’t want to,” Leon said. “We know enough already.”
Clear nodded gratefully. “When they began… Deianira did not show her face afterward. They… worked on me for long periods. Truthfully, I don’t remember much of it. I am convinced that I did not let slip anything of any importance, but… I also remember rambling about cheese… or was it beer? I rambled about something inconsequential at some point, and I can’t guarantee that I didn’t do the same for more important matters at other points. I… remember less and less as it continued, until after one session… nothing. I only remember waking up here.”
“Thank you, Clear,” Leon said. “That’s enough for us; we know for a fact that Deianira is personally involved. That’s what counts. You get some rest.”
Clear seemed to deflate, the strength he had mere moments ago dissipating until he looked about a hundred years old. For a post-Apotheosis equivalent creature, he tended to skew much older in looks than most mages of equal power, but now he seemed not only old but frail, too.
“I will… need quite a bit of rest,” he admitted. “I hope you don’t mind, Leon. I won’t be personally seeing to anything for a while…”
“Just rest, my friend,” Leon said. “Don’t think about that. Focus on your recovery. I’ll handle everything else.”
A guttural laugh forced its way past Clear’s lips. “Few things worry me more.”
Leon smiled good-naturedly, squeezed his friend’s shoulder once more, and then led Ryonos and Serana out of the healer’s bay.
As soon as the door shut behind them, Serana observed, “You are close with him. Close enough for him to treat you remarkably casually.”
“I don’t like standing on much pretension,” Leon responded as he led them through the trapezoidal halls back to where the other dragons were waiting for them. “I get that, as a King, I need to put on appearances in front of larger crowds, but I’d rather people relax when we’re alone. Makes for more honest communication when no one has to worry about what they say or how they say it. Plus, being good friends with my people means they’re more loyal and will work harder.”
“Utilitarian,” Ryonos said.
“I find that such arguments are more often accepted when I have to explain these things,” Leon stated. “In truth, I just don’t like being too formal. Nothing more complex than that. And as a King, I get what I want.”
Smirking, Serana said, “Spoken like a proper dragon.”
Not long after that, they found themselves back in the sitting room where the other five dragons were waiting. It took a few more minutes, but they caught everyone else up on what had happened.
“Deianira has always been a jealous cunt,” Karina growled. “You know that she once invited me to a gathering, only to cancel my invitation at the last minute? I hadn’t planned on going anyway, but I think that bitch just wanted to try and exert some kind of power over me.”
“Her dislike of those with Inherited Bloodlines is known,” Ianu said, his voice rumbling with judgment.
“We should go and give her a few lasting burns, then!” Nyra was quick to suggest.
“And antagonize the Sun King?” Ryonos asked. “My aureate sister, while I don’t think a dragon alive would turn such an assault down, attacking so powerful a man should be left to my radiant father.”
“But she’s hostile!” Nyra insisted. “She just gets to attack Leon and get away with it!”
Leon blinked in surprise, having not expected such a show of kinship from Nyra. In fact, the young woman had largely tried to avoid speaking of their meeting, or even being alone with him, since Serana publicly acknowledged him as her son. While he hadn’t taken her behavior to heart, it was still nice to see it change, no matter the reason.
“She’ll be dealt with,” Varon said. “There’s a reason we have expanded our power in these past few decades, my aureate sister.”
“Was there?” Nyra asked with muted surprise. “I just thought it was because we were dragons.”
Leon gave Serana a questioning look, and she explained quietly, “All seven Clans have waged wars out in the universe. The Great Dragon Clans now control half again as much territory as we did before our war with Kamran.”
He nodded. “You’ll have to tell me about that sometime.”
“When you finish your life story, I’ll tell you mine,” she said. “I’ve spent much of my life imprisoned, though, so it won’t take long.”
He nodded again before turning his attention back to the other dragons.
“There is another war coming,” Varon said. “We’re going to be ready for it this time.”
“We’ll kill whoever challenges us!” Nyra loudly declared, throwing her hands into the air as if her favorite sports team had just put points on the board.
To Leon’s dismay, the dragons didn’t stay much longer after that, having largely just come to get to know him, only hurried along somewhat by the Sun King’s arrival. They soon had to leave, and Leon escorted them to the hangar for their departure.
“Don’t be a stranger, Leon,” Ryonos said as they left Storm Herald. “You are kin. Join our flight whenever you wish.”
“And share with us that transformation thing!” Nyra shouted over her shoulder, perhaps explaining her attitude shift as much as her near-worship of Serana did.
With that, the other six dragons left, with only Serana staying behind. She wasn’t going to leave, she’d declared as much several times. For that, Leon was grateful. He’d been separated from his mother for too long, and he was determined that no one was going to part them again.
---
Leon sighed as he opened his eyes in his Mind Palace. The Games had continued in earnest, but his agreement with the Sun King meant that he remained in Storm Herald. He wasn’t happy about missing the opening rounds of gladiator matches and chariot races that his people were participating in, but he’d sent many of his people out to watch on his behalf. Even his wives attended, representing his family amongst the Lords.
Without much else to fill his time, and after sensing the arrival of the Thunderbird, he decided to dive into his soul realm to chat.
When he beheld his Mind Palace, he found the Thunderbird perched next to Xaphan’s pavilion, the two exchanging barbs.
“…never known a weaker, more self-destructive reprobate,” the Thunderbird finished with a scoff.
“I am no Rekhandrir,” Xaphan hotly retorted. “And to insinuate any connection is to prove your own soft-headedness. But what am I to expect from a bird? Shouldn’t you be out digging for worms rather than bothering me over inane nonsense?”
The Thunderbird was about to respond when Leon walked into the pavilion.
“You two seem like you’re having fun,” Leon observed.
“Yes, what jolly friends we all are,” deadpanned Xaphan. “Why, should the day come when we all part, I will be truly heartbroken. It will take me one, possibly even two seconds to get over it!”
“The matchstick is fun to poke,” the Thunderbird said as she assumed human form beside Leon. “What brings you here, my boy?”
“I’ve been speaking with the Great Dragon Clans about stuff,” he said nonspecifically. “Left me with some lingering questions that are… I’m unsure about asking them about them.”
“Ask here, boy,” Xaphan said. “No one here will judge your questions. Only you for asking them.”
“What a comfort,” Leon replied sarcastically. “Anyway… Do you remember when… when my father died?”
“Yes,” the Thunderbird said. “The day when my Clan was reduced to only one survivor was memorable.”
“I buried him according to his wishes,” Leon continued. “A Heartwood seed in his heart, which has now grown. I’ll… probably be visiting sometime soon now that I’ve found my mother. She’ll want to see it.”
“Is there a problem?” the Thunderbird asked, picking up on his tone.
“No. Not really. I’m just… when speaking with the dragons, the topic of resurrection was brought up. Returning from the dead. I was told that in the White Dragon Clan’s records, only a few cases in all of their history have been verified, and that… that each one involved a Heartwood tree.”
“You want to know if your father might replicate the feat?” The Thunderbird smiled at him, a sad smile slowly spreading over her face.
Leon couldn’t quite bring himself to answer in the affirmative. It still seemed too juvenile to face; it was natural for everyone to want their parent back after death claimed them, but death was the only true constant in life. Even post-Apotheosis immortals would eventually find themselves leaving the land of the living, becoming an Ancestor for their descendants to venerate. To resist death was natural, too, but that was a fight that would eventually be lost, and once lost, there was no coming back. Even in those rare cases, the return was temporary, as none of those who accomplished the feat were still alive. They had their second chance, but even still, their time ran out.
“Leon, my boy,” the Thunderbird whispered, “I don’t…”
“No,” Xaphan bluntly said. “Don’t get your hopes up, Leon. It isn’t happening. Your father is dead. No amount of wishes or Heartwood seeds will bring him back. What’s done is done.”
As much as Leon valued Xaphan’s opinion, it was the Thunderbird’s that he wanted. When he made eye contact with her, however, he saw the same rejection there that Xaphan had just given him, if a bit softer.
Exhaling deeply, he eventually said, “I can’t say I’m surprised. I wasn’t expecting anything. But I wanted to know.”
“Millions have been interred with Heartwood seeds,” the Thunderbird softly said. “If that was all that it took, then they all would have returned. Those few cases… I can’t say I’ve heard of them, but it sounds to me like there were extenuating circumstances.”
Leon nodded slowly before summoning the box with the black Heartwood seed. He cracked it open, and strangely, the deathly aura that it had in the physical world was gone. The seed seemed almost inert, as if it were petrified.
“Does this change anything?” he asked.
“No…?” the Thunderbird said. “Leon, if it had, I would’ve encouraged you to use it all those years ago. That seed… I can’t say I’d seen any like it before your father’s interment, but just looking different isn’t enough to make a difference.”
“When I held it outside of my soul realm,” he said, “it had an aura of death. Or something like that. So Ryonos said. He also said that my black lightning was ‘death lightning’. Until then, I hadn’t thought that ‘death’ was a quality that something could have. Now I and this seed share this quality.”
The Thunderbird paced around him, her face scrunched up in thought. “Though dead,” she said, “I have no special insight into this matter. My death and continued existence, as it were, is not… standard. Not what humans experience. But you should bring it back to Artorion. You and Nestor have done little experimentation with your… ‘death’ lightning. Perhaps it’s time to fix that?”
Leon quietly agreed. It was difficult to study something that damaged him when used, but he was much stronger now than he was when he first started using it. He needed to know what this power did and how it might affect those he struck with it.
‘What happened to Triyr?’ he couldn’t help but wonder. Ryonos healed those he’d struck when rescuing Clear, but Triyr, as far as he knew, didn’t have a White Dragon around to heal him. Unless Anassa Britta was a more skilled healer than the Sun King… but he also hadn’t hit Triyr with nearly as potent a bolt as he used against Anax Unax…
‘Much to consider,’ he thought, his mind momentarily turning to his other soul realm resident, one who might know more. He was reluctant to summon him, though. ‘Back at Artorion,’ he vowed. ‘Answers then.’
Quietly, he began to train under both the Thunderbird and Xaphan’s guidance. As strong as he was, there was always more to learn, and given what he’d been facing for a while, he needed that strength…
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