Goss struck, his right arm flying out, his splayed claws scratching across Ymir’s face, drawing deep gashes in the skin, flesh opened and red, dark blood splattering, streaking down across his apathetic face because even though it must have hurt, even though it had to be painful, it still didn’t hurt as much as the brand—even death wouldn’t be close. Eyes blurring, mind dissolving into static, Goss took a step back, bracing himself before letting his tail whip out, aiming it for the older dragons’ neck, hoping that Kitty’s theory would be right, that a well-placed strike at the right spot would kill him instantly, making his suffering brief and ending this whole farce as soon as possible.

The air cracked, the club his tail had formed hit true, and all he felt was the stiff musculature of a neck in constant strain. He pulled his tail back. Ymir wasn’t moving. ‘Maybe he’s dead,’ Goss thought, hopeful naivety clashing with the terrible reality of the situation. Within only seconds, Ymir drew another breath, and the spot Goss struck bloomed into a purple bruise.

He wasn’t dead. Not yet. He had to kill him. He had to do more than that.

“Kill him!”

“Come on, don’t waste time with mercy!”

“We’re here to see the old invalid die, not your gawking!”

Looking up into the bleachers, Goss let his eyes search desperately, only stopping once they fell on Kitty. In return, Kitty met his gaze evenly, without any discernible emotion. He wasn’t expectant, he wasn’t unhappy, he wasn’t bloodthirsty, and he wasn’t disappointed. He was nothing.

Until Goss showed results, he would be given nothing. This was as clear as day.

Goss turned back to Ymir. With the chanting of the crowd filling his ears, he tried to kill Ymir in every way he knew how. He clawed open gashes along his body, severing arteries and leaving him a bleeding mess. He beat him, breaking bones and mincing his tawny musculature into mush. The dust-covered ground, previously a pristine white, was covered in flowering blooms of red blood.

‘Please die,’ Goss thought to himself as he tore flesh from the old dragon’s bones. ‘Please die,’ he chanted as he pulverized bone and bit off the older dragon’s limbs one by one, despite knowing that no amount of pain he inflicted would be greater than what he had already experienced. ‘Please die,’ he prayed as he allowed himself to be covered in the viscera of his mentor, his every heartbeat reminding Goss that he was still alive, he wasn’t dead, and the world was worse off because of it.

‘Please die. Please die. Please die. Please die. Please die.’

He wouldn’t die. Even as his blood covered the floor like the feathers of a slain drake, his heart still beat. Goss tore out his intestines, threw his musculature across the arena, displaced bones and exposed his heart to the world, and yet, it still beat, and he still lived, and Goss was a failure—a pathetic failure and a mistake who never should have agreed to any of this. He should be dead. He should have died long ago. But he was alive, breathing, his heart beating, and nothing Goss did could redeem him.

“—AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!” Goss screamed, devolving into a petty tantrum as he beat at Ymir’s open chest, at his steadily beating heart, his fists closed and useless and a disgrace to everything Kitty ever taught him. “Die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die! Please, die—”

“Goss, stop!” Father shouted, in front of him now, standing on top of Ymir’s chest, his wings spread out, defending Ymir even though Ymir was unforgivable, irredeemable, the kind of monster who could only find absolution through death. How dare he? “Please, my child, I’ll—”

Goss’ closed fist slammed into Father’s side, the small former flying across the arena to crash into one of the walls. High above, the audience raged with joy, shouting, laughing, crying for him to do what he came here to do. And as Goss looked down at the exposed heart in front of him, he finally understood what it was he needed to do. Adam, falling to the temptation of Eve, Goss leaned down, gathered the heart into his hands, and took a bite. Finally, it stopped. Finally, the beating of the heart ended, the thumping finished, the roaring of the audience quieted, and like this, finally, it was time. Goss could feel it. It was time. Now, he could finally—

Kempt leapt at him, tackling him from atop Ymir, the both of them going flying before rolling to a stop several paces away from the body. “Goss, you have to stop! What you’ve done to Father is—”

Goss’ face thrust out, his wide-open jaws snapping at Kempt’s neck. The older dragon jumped back only barely in time to avoid the brutal attack. His wide eyes blinked at him. “What in the world are you—”

Without waiting for Kempt to initiate, Goss threw himself at him, tackling him to the ground and pushing down his limbs, his ravenous maw finding itself at the base of his fellow whelp’s wing. Powerful jaws clasped around the vital limbs, needle-sharp teeth sinking into flesh, the taste of blood and flesh reinforcing the fact that it was time. This was it. Now, he could become who he was always meant to be.

Wailing in pain, Kempt pushed Goss off, only barely doing so without losing his wing in the process. Freed, Kempt attempted to use his breath of fire, only for Goss to quickly stick his claws inside Kempt’s chest vents, the sudden intrusion leaving the older dragon to gasp for air, falling to the ground in screamless pain. Goss watched as Kempt retreated, crawling in the dust, a trail of blood in his wake. Above, the other dragons clamored. This was it. This was it. This was it.

This was…

Silence. Emptiness. He wasn’t transforming. Why wasn’t he transforming? He looked down at his arms, but they were still arms, not wings. They were supposed to be wings. He was supposed to have wings. His eyes moved across the arena. Ymir was dead. Father laid in a crumpled heap on the other side of the arena. Kempt was gone. He did everything right. But he still wasn’t a four-winged dragon. So, why did he…?

Electrical currents shocked across Goss’ skull and he turned on himself, on his own wings, his jaws snatching a hold of the base of his right wing, the pain making him feel alive, feel real, feel like the world was nothing save for his flesh screaming out, and not everything else, and he chewed at it, the skin giving way to flesh, the flesh giving way to bone, and the bone giving in eventually, snapping off, rent to dust, gone, and just like that, his wing fell to the ground with a heavy thud, and with that, he wasn’t a four-winged dragon, he wasn’t even a two-winged dragon anymore, but he was still a dragon, he’d always be a dragon, no matter what he did, and that meant that he was unforgivable, always unforgivable, only redeemable through—

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Something fell onto his face. Something small, about the size of a wooden toy. Goss stared with horror into the face of Kitty. Neither of them said a word.

With a powerful shake of the head, Goss sent Kitty flying, the humans’ claws unable to find grip on the dragon’s smooth scales. Kitty hit the dust a pace away, where Goss fully expected his last remaining tether to mortal life to turn to dust. However, instead, he could only watch in slack-jawed shock as Kitty pulled himself to his feet—no, to the stumps where his feet used to be. He wasn’t standing on holy ground barefoot. Somehow, such a trivial loophole had spared him.

Neither of them said a word. The air buzzed with tension between them.

Then, Kitty leapt into the air, and disappeared. For an instant, Goss felt that all-too-familiar confusion come over him, though it was quickly replaced by recognition as he noticed the trail of dust left by Kitty’s rolling. His tail whipped out, finding its target easily, though the attack was made empty as Kitty instead latched onto the tail, crawling up his back as Goss attempted to fight back, thrashing about and batting his tail at the smaller creature.

“Get off—” Goss grunted, bucking like a wronged drake, his attacks making contact but without any lasting damage. In the end, he could only watch as Kitty, battered and bruised, bleeding from his legs and pretty much everywhere else, crawled on top of his face once more.

For a moment, they simply watched each other, both covered in more red than anything else, breathing heavily.

Kitty placed a hand on Goss’ forehead, the bruised fingers feeling soft despite the claws adorning it. “It’s okay,” he said. “You don’t have to do this anymore. I was wrong. This isn’t…” He drew a deep breath. Eyes on Goss, he allowed himself to almost smile. “Did you… think I was going to kill you? Because you didn’t turn into a four-winged dragon?”

“...I did,” Goss admitted. Even now, doubts rang through his mind. Maybe Kitty was only trying to get him off-guard, playing nice so he wouldn’t be able to fight back once he struck. Maybe this had been his plan all along, and all the days and hours they’d shared was for this and this alone.

“You did, huh…” A small smile cracked across Kitty’s face, but it faltered just as quickly, a beep frown replacing it. “I’m sorry. I… I’ve changed my mind.” His smile returned, though somber—almost mellow. “I’ll stay, Goss. I’ve decided. You can be a dragon as much as you want to be, and I… I’ll still be your friend, and I’ll still be by your side.”

“You… will?”

“Yeah. I will.”

“Even though I didn’t become a four-winged dragon?”

“That doesn’t even factor into it,” Kitty admitted with a chuckle.

“Even though…” Goss tried to look away, but no matter where he looked, he still saw Kitty, sitting on top of his face, smiling like a proper brother. There was nowhere to run. Strangely enough, Goss didn’t even want to escape anymore. “Even though I’m… me?”

Kitty broke into a grin. “Because you’re you.”

Goss felt himself smile. It was so simple. ‘Ah. So, that’s it, then?’

“You know, all this stuff with Father kissing things and doing magic… it feels so much like a storybook. Did you notice that? All the kissing is super weird. I mean, kissing people into magic should be reserved for magical princesses, if you ask me. Like, could you imagine if you got kissed, and all of a sudden a bunch of magic happened? That would be ridiculous!” Kitty rambled inanely. Goss enjoyed every word of it. “I’ll prove it! There’s no way it’d work in real life, see, it’s just…” Leaning down, in pure mockery of something Goss had never heard nor cared about before this moment, Kitty planted a kiss atop his forehead. “—See? Absolutely nothing’s happeni—”

It felt as though someone was hugging him.

[My child,

I have missed you.

Welcome back home.]

The world felt warm. Arms around him on every side, hugging him tightly—but not too tightly. Like a mother holding her child, in the way he had always wanted his own mother to hold him—but it was okay, because there were other people to hug in the world, who would love to hug him, and wouldn’t mind being hugged by him. Holding out his arms, Goss felt Kitty in them, snuggled closely. Warm. Even though Kitty usually felt so cold, now, he felt warm. And big. He didn’t feel like a tiny wooden toy anymore—he was as big as a big brother should be, hunched down to hug Goss properly.

Goss opened his eyes, and Kitty was looking down at him, suddenly big, and although his eyes were big and wide with all the subtlety of a toddler pointing at the disabled, they still held all the love Goss had come to expect from them. Goss smiled up at him. Tentatively, Kitty smiled back.

Chuckling warmly, Goss said, “You look a lot skinnier from down here.”

“You—you—you’re…”

“I got better,” Goss said, finding himself to mean it completely. He felt lighter. “You helped me get better.” Smiling wider, he pressed himself back into his brother’s arms. “Thank you, Kitty. Thank you.”

“You’re… welcome…?” Kitty said reluctantly.

Still holding Kitty, Goss asked, “Are you going away now?”

For a second, Kitty couldn’t answer. Then, he choked out, “Yeah. But… but they’re giving me a few more minutes. That’s what it says.”

“No exact time?”

“...No, but knowing them…”

Goss dislodged himself, his smile feeling as casual as a dragon’s natural scowl. “In that case, we have a bit more time.”

Taking Kitty’s hand, Goss led him across the arena. Now, unlike before, the chasuble of atonement he wore was perfectly sized, covering him in the warm feathers of all that had come before him. Below, the dust felt warm between his toes. Welcoming. Up above, the dragons watched, their eyes following the two as they strolled through the dirt, one of them tracking blood everywhere. Eventually, they arrived at where Father lay slouched against the wall. Hunching down, Goss grinned at the other former. “Father, you don’t have to pretend to sleep anymore.”

Without opening his eyes, Father asked, “Did you get better?”

“I did,” Goss answered simply.

In response, Father peeked an eye open. Seeing Goss, he bolted upright, breaking into a massive grin. “Goss!” Not waiting for his fellow former to stand up, Father grabbed Goss and pulled him into his arms, hugging him so tightly he lifted him off the ground, taking the moment to twirl Goss around. “My son! Oh, I am so proud of you!”

Goss smiled sheepishly. “No, not yet. There’s still something I have to do.”

As one, they both turned to Ymir’s body. He was a grisly sight to behold. They both knew what had to be done. Before he let him go, Father gave Goss a pat on the back. Goss returned the gesture by squeezing his hand. And then, he was off. The audience was silent, wide eyes watching nervously as the one-winged former approached the brutalized corpse. To get to his heart, Goss had to step over multiple discarded organs and half-mangled limbs, his bare feet touching blood, yet remaining untarnished by it. Soon, he stood upon the dragon’s chest, Ymir’s cold, his heart half-eaten and motionless where it lay.

Clasping his hands, Goss muttered, “Forgive me, as the God of Multitudes forgives you.”

Kneeling down, he took the heart in his hands, brought it to his face, and pressed his lips against the dead organ, his kiss flooding it with light. And with that, the heart turned to white dust, and so did the rest of the body, his blood likewise. The holy ground returned to its beauty, and Ymir returned from whence he came.

But he would always live on. Goss touched a hand to the chasuble, to Ymir’s feather adorning it. And he smiled, because Ymir would never truly be gone—nor would anyone else. Not even he would ever disappear fully. The world was immeasurably kind.

With his duty to Ymir completed, Goss turned once more to his brother, who stood by Father—his lanky, awkward posture mirrored on his face. From across the distance, Goss asked, “Do you have time left?”

“Y—yeah, I think I do,” Kitty replied. He glanced down at something Goss couldn’t see. “A little over a minute.”

“That’s plenty of time,” Goss said, and with only a few steps, he found himself in front of Kitty again. Goss held out his arms. By pure instinct, Kitty recuperated, pulling the smaller former into his arms. There, Goss felt at home. Hugging Kitty properly was worth everything else. “Will you come visit someday?”

“I don’t know,” Kitty replied honestly.

“I hope you will,” Goss said. “But if you don’t, it’s okay.”

“Is it?”

“It is. My only regret is that I couldn’t do for you what you’ve done for me.”

Kitty hesitated. “You’ve done plenty for me. I’m the one who…”

Goss smiled against his chest. “I’m glad I met you, Kitty.”

“You can’t know that,” Kitty said. “You don’t know what I might do down the line.”

“It doesn’t matter. Right now, I’m happy to know you. What happens later doesn’t change what I feel now. And right now, I feel glad.”

Kitty bit his lip. “Goodbye, Goss. I’m…” He took a shallow breath. “I’m happy I didn’t kill you.”

Goss giggled. “That’s good.” He sighed happily. “I’m glad I didn’t kill you, either.” Looking up, Goss met Kitty’s gaze enough to show him the biggest smile he could muster—a smile as honest as it was pure. “Goodbye, Kitty. I’ll see you around!”

And, despite everything, Kitty finally found the strength to smile back. “...See you, Goss.”

With that, still holding Goss in his arms, Kitty disappeared, summoned away to continue his divine service.

Goss watched his fading image, smiling.