“Ixiuul?!” Gino exclaimed, slamming his hands down onto the tavern table. “He was here?”

Valo and Holly nodded simultaneously. They sat on the opposite side of a table in the tavern, facing Gino. Their table was loaded with the tavern’s best (only) breakfast offerings: boiled eggs coated in so much fermented chili that the white had become a deep red; chunks of torn bread that were dipped in a thick, gooey mash of garlic and enough pepper to make it gray; steaming mugs filled with a thick, goopy liquid that smelled like yeast and black coffee.

Valo picked at it, enjoying the intense flavors. By now, though, Holly knew better; she even pushed the dishes further away, the mere smell of them biting at his nose. Gino had begun to dive into the food as they’d sat down—but as soon as they started recounting what happened the night before, he’d paused mid-chew.

Gino swallowed, gulping down the half an egg he’d bitten into. He dropped the other half back onto his roughly carved wooden plate.

“Well…” Valo hummed. “I’m not sure he was here exactly. He didn’t fly off or anything. He just… vanished.”

“Like a ghost?” Gino suggested.

“Well… yes,” Holly said, with a shrug. “Except… ghosts aren’t real. Ixiuul was. I saw him. We both saw him.”

Gino snorted. “What? Of course ghosts are real.”

Holly paused. “What?”

Gino nodded. “It’s been known that when a dragon passes, their spirit can sometimes be seen wandering their old Lair. The dwarves of the Silverspawn Cliffs reported seeing Dragonlord Histeel after the old dragon died. We heard their distressed cries for weeks.”

“Silverspawn Cliffs?” Holly frowned. “That’s hundreds of miles from here.”

Gino tapped his head and smirked. “The Thought-Weave.”

“You have a family member there?” Holly asked, furrowing her brow. She genuinely could not wrap her head around the Thought-Weave, and the more she heard about it, the stranger it seemed. “You can only hear your family’s thoughts, can’t you?”

Gino nodded. “Essentially, yes.” He raised a finger. “But there are dwarven settlements all the way from here to the Silverspawn Cliffs. Most of us have a strong relationship with Huggsfort, the next town over. The dwarves of Huggsfort have ties with the dwarves of Ulderbarrow. The dwarves of Ulderbarrow…” He rolled his hand over and over and over again. “Etcetera, etcetera… until the Silverspawn Cliffs. When the Silverspawn dwarves feel something—especially something as powerful as seeing their dead liege walking among them again—that cascades through the Thought-Weave. The Silverspawn dwarves feel it, then the Tystiara forge-dwarves feel it… so on and so on, then the Ulderbarrows, then the Huggsforts—and then us.” He paused and glanced at Holly. “But you’re right. I have no strong ties. I felt the reverberations through the Thought-Weave much less than most of us here—but I still felt it.” He sighed. “Point being—ghosts are no mere children’s tale.”

“Is that what we saw?” Valo asked. “A… ghost?”

Valo knew what a ghost was—its definition, at least—but he didn’t see a reason to be afraid of them. Beside him, however, Holly was paling at the mere mention of ghosts being real.

“Perhaps. It’s… hard to say.” Gino pursed his lips. “When a dragon dies, its soul doesn’t die with it. A dragon’s soul passes into the Dragon-Weave. Most dragons just pass into it peacefully—but some dragons with particularly high Dragonboon sometimes linger.”

Valo perked up at the mention of the Dragonboon. He’d seen that before, when he’d opened his Attribute menu. It was his most powerful attribute at 992.

“Dragonboon,” Valo blurted, cutting Gino off. “What’s that?”

Gino hummed, picking up the half of an egg he’d started eating earlier. “It’s a measure of a dragon’s will—his sheer determination to enact his vision onto the world around him. It’s a measure of a dragon’s ability to tap into and use the Dragon-Weave.”

Seeing the confusion on Valo’s face, Gino continued to explain.

“The Dragon-Weave is similar to the Thought-Weave that we dwarves share, but the connection isn’t a well of feelings, thoughts, and emotions.” Gino paused, looking at Valo. “It’s a well of power.”

Valo perked up at that. “So if I have a high Dragonboon rating…”

Gino narrowed his eyes. “How high?”

“Nine hundred…” Valo muttered. “And ninety-two.”

“Nine hundred?!” Gino exclaimed. He sounded even more shocked than when he’d mentioned Ixiuul’s ghost. “Almighty Elder Dragons… your boon is the highest I’ve ever heard of!”

Holly raised her brows. “Really?”

Gino nodded enthusiastically, his head bobbing rapidly. “Ixiuul himself had a Dragonboon of three hundred, give or take…” He stared at Valo. “Yours i-i-is triple that!” Realizing the weight of the revelation, Gino dropped the half-egg and scrambled off the bench and fell onto the floor, kneeling and bowing his head, completely folded over. “My liege! My Dragonlord!”

Valo and Holly exchanged a look.

“Uh… rise,” Valo muttered.

Gino did, slipping back onto the bench like a mouse before a lion. He glanced down, avoiding eye contact with Valo—but it wasn’t entirely out of respect for the young dragon. The dwarf seemed to have something on his mind.

“What is it?” Valo asked.

“If your connection to the Dragon-Weave is that strong…” Gino began, slowly working up the courage to meet Valo’s eye again, “then perhaps it wasn’t Ixiuul who appeared before you, but you who summoned Ixiuul’s spirit.”

“Is there a difference?” Holly asked. “The dragon appeared and told us… Well, not much, frankly.”

Valo glanced at Holly. “As much as he could.”

“Oh, there is a difference,” Gino muttered gravely. “If our young liege here summoned Ixiuul… perhaps he can summon the spirits of other dragons too.”

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

Valo’s eyes went wide. Ixiuul hadn’t been able to answer all of his questions—but he had given him a few clues. The dragon Envius had a hand in the dragons’ disappearance. It wasn’t much, but it was more information than he had before—and he didn’t just gain a new clue.

He’d gained a new Skill—his first intermediate-class one. If he summoned another dragon’s spirit, perhaps they wouldn’t just give him answers.

Perhaps they would give him some of their power.

“What did Ixiuul have to say, anyway?” Gino picked up the spiced egg and began to nibble at it again.

“That a dragon called Envius had something to do with their disappearance,” Valo said. “And that it was up to me to save the dragons.”

“Save them? They’re in danger?” Gino shook his head. “Of course they are. They wouldn’t leave their most loyal servants without a word—not by choice.” He brightened at that thought. “Did he say where he was? What you need to do?”

Valo shook his head.

Gino bit his lip.

“Ixiuul’s spirit couldn’t linger for long…” Valo hummed. “But at least—”

A loud clammer from the Lair below them sounded through the stone. It sounded like a chorus of angry voices, followed by a few thuds. The chorus grew and grew beneath them as more voices joined in the clatter.

Valo, Holly, and Gino exchanged a look. Gino’s face twisted uncomfortably as he felt the reverberations of the Thought-Weave.

“Alvarro,” Gino suggested, standing up suddenly and rushing to the door behind him.

Holly and Valo rushed after him. As the trio descended the winding stone staircase, the sound of voices echoed up to meet them, growing louder and louder with each step. When they reached the entrance to the Lair and ventured inside, they saw a swarm of dwarves crowding around the obelisk.

No, Valo realized, not around the obelisk—around someone.

Around Alvarro.

The dwarves murmured at him. Some of them yelped as Alvarro lashed out at them—with his sharpened tongue and with his hands. His eyes were wide with rage, his pupils unnaturally big. Beads of sweat carved their way down his reddening face.

But all Valo could see was the backs of dwarves. As short as the dwarves were, they were still taller than Valo. Holly, however, saw everything.

“What’s going on?” Valo asked Holly, trying to peek over the crowd of dwarves.

“It’s Alvarro,” Holly said, staring ahead. “He’s gone mad.”

Gino shoved his way through the crowd of dwarves. The crowd parted easily, each dwarf sensing Gino’s desire to approach. When he reached the front of the crowd, he pulled back, dodging a swipe from Alvarro.

“Alvarro!” Gino cried out, forcing himself forward and grabbing onto his arms. “Calm down—”

But Alvarro threw Gino’s hands off of him and swatted at him, landing a few slaps. Gino tried to grab back onto Alvarro, but the mad dwarf kept thrashing about, resisting Gino’s attempts to contain him. As Gino grew more frustrated, his frustration bled into the crowd of dwarves around him, spread by the Thought-Weave.

But his feelings weren’t the only ones bleeding into the other dwarves via the Thought-Weave. Alvarro’s emotions—a turbulent, roaring tornado of negative emotion—were starting to spill out into them too, infecting them. As a result, the nearest dwarves started shutting their eyes and clamping their hands onto their ears in an effort to drown out the maddening cacophony.

And it was spreading.

Gino’s efforts weren’t amounting to much. Hells, he seemed to only be aggravating Alvarro—and, therefore, aggravating the entire crowd.

If this went on much longer, the entire town of dwarves would be driven mad.

They had to put a stop to it. Holly and Valo had the same thought simultaneously—but Holly was the first to act. She marched forward, her hand drifting down to her blade. As she marched through the frothing crowd, she tugged her knife free, resting it an inch out of its sheath.

Sensing that that would only make things worse, Valo scampered after her. “Holly, wait!”

But Holly was well within the crowd’s roaring chorus, and Valo’s voice couldn’t penetrate it.

Aided by her much longer legs, Holly pulled away from Valo, despite his scrambling after her. She marched toward Alvarro, knife slowly leaving its sheath, and preparing herself to strike.

But Valo couldn’t let her kill Alvarro. Even just hurting him could have a cascade of unforeseen effects through the Thought-Weave. He was causing harm now, but there was no way of knowing what hurting him would do.

Valo had to stop it. He had to stop Holly, the dwarves, Alvarro, even Gino.

He had to stop them all.

As the thought crossed his mind, he realized that he had precisely the means to do it.

Ixiuul’s Command, he recalled. The Skill, granted to him by Ixiuul’s spirit, would force other creatures to obey him.

Valo called on the Skill, activating it. Instantly, a powerful sensation welled up within him. A surge of energy—of power—burned within him, welling in his heart, clawing at his flesh.

And it was begging to be released.

“Stop!” Valo let out.

The word gushed forth from his maw like a bolting horse. His voice—as thunderous as Ixiuul’s had been—cascaded through the entire Lair, filling the cavernous space with his command. Waves of his authority reverberated through the place, hitting every ear that could listen—every dwarf, Holly, even the rats heard him.

And, suddenly, they all froze where they stood.

All of them stood frozen. Hands were still raised and mouths open mid-cry. Holly’s fingers were still curled around her knife, a determined look etched onto her face. Gino stood, gripping Alvarro’s arm and ducking beneath the mad dwarf’s swipe.

After a moment, the last of their cries faded, leaving just the lonely silence of the Lair.

Curious, Valo plodded forward, looking at each of the frozen dwarves as he delved into the crowd. He weaved between their legs.

When he got to the front of the crowd, standing between Holly, Gino, and Alvarro, he noticed something strange about them. Their faces were slowly getting redder and redder, and they were starting to shudder. He stared at them, unsure what was wrong with them—aside from being frozen, that was. He peered at Holly, scanning her form.

And then it struck him: they weren’t breathing. Valo had commanded them to stop—and that included breathing.

A sharp stab of panic shot through his heart. If they couldn’t breathe, that meant… He shook his head, burying the thought. He couldn’t just let them all suffocate. He couldn’t let them all die.

“Breathe!” Valo yelled, desperately trying to call on Ixiuul’s Command again.

But his Skill wasn’t answering his call.

Once per twenty-four hours, Valo recalled, his heart sinking. He rushed over to Holly and crashed into her leg, desperately trying to break the command’s hold. He rammed his horns into her leg, clawed at her pants, let out loud roars…

All to no avail.

And as he tried and failed, their faces grew redder and redder. Their eyes started to look hollow.

They were dying.

Desperate, Valo looked up at Holly, her blonde hair practically glowing in the ambient light of the Lair. “Wake up!” he yelled, his emotions welling and spilling out of his maw—along with a puff of flame that roared up at Holly’s head.

This time, Valo’s voice cascaded through the Lair, shattering the hold his command had on each of the dwarves and on Holly. A soft crack, crack, crack could be heard as the bond was shattered, everyone freed.

And, in unison, everyone exploded with a loud gasp. They gulped down air, swallowing as much as they could. Their gasps sounded dry and raspy—strained, even. They all pulled as much air as they could into their lungs at once—and, in a wave, they fell to the floor, landing with a collective thud.

And, once again, Valo was alone.