Castle, Castle, in the Sky

Up where only dragons fly

Don't go close or even try

There are painless ways to die

— Empire of the Sun, Children's Rhyme

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Molam jerked to a halt, turning his head to stare at the spirit. "What do you mean, 'no longer in the Castle?' RainBringer has never allowed the Princess to leave the Castle."

Even RainBringer can change her mind. She has sent her daughter to the Black Pyramid in the Endless Sands. DuskWing's lair has been left unattended for too long and its leyline focal point has become weakened.

Molam resumed his climb in silence. The phoenix waited for him to speak, then when he did not, decided to press further. You know this is necessary. Each focal point needs a dragon to stabilize the Seal, and RainBringer has —

"Don't." Molam whispered, taking each step slowly in a vain attempt to calm the dull throbbing in his head. "You already know that I understand, and I do. I certainly do." The words pushed past clenched teeth. "She avoided sending her daughter to replace DuskWing for centuries, and now this… timing." He spat out the last word. "How convenient an excuse for RainBringer to separate us again. If she can't keep me away from the Castle, she can simply move her daughter with responsibility."

Are you no longer going to the Castle?

"No." He exhaled, feeling the warm air push out of his chest, followed by a more forced wheeze when it would no longer leave naturally. Molam forced himself to wait as his body craved air, feeling the thumping sensation of his heart pick up in intensity as he fought against the urge to breathe. Only when he could no longer resist did he open his mouth and gasp for air, feeling it fill his body.

He felt his body loosen up as he restabilized his thoughts, something Molam had learned during his time in the Northern Plains. Feeling his breathing come under control, he straightened up and took another step up the Stairs.

"There's not much I can do about the separation at this point, and the Castle is just a few steps away. At the very least, I should pay my respects to the one who fostered me in her home… and perhaps take the chance to ask RainBringer about her… plans."

I understand how you feel, boy. I am here to help you speak with her.

Molam laughed in mirthless silence. "Do you know how stubborn she is?"

As I said earlier: Even RainBringer can change her mind.

***

Molam stepped off the Stairs and onto the Castle's terrace. He stood above the clouds that covered YiZhi Mountain, and cloudy wisps covered the ground in front of him leading up to the Castle in the Sky. Although he had stepped off the Stairs when he had reached the Castle, the Stairs themselves kept going upwards, disappearing into the skies.

You look as though you want to keep going up.

The phoenix swooped out of the depths of the Stairs with a fiery flap of its wings, circling around the Stairs once and coming to a glide in front of him.

"Hardly," Molam held out an arm for the spirit. "I know I have not been invited."

Is that what you are waiting for? An invitation?

Molam waited until the spirit shuffled to his shoulder before he lowered his arm and began walking to the Castle. "Unlike the Companions, I'm not close to being qualified for an invitation by the Gods."

The Castle loomed, larger than any City Lord's Mansion Molam had ever seen. The only structure larger could be the Empire's Crimson Palace. Carved out of white rock, Molam had always wondered if the Castle was painstakingly chiseled out into its form or somehow assembled such that the structure seemed seamless. The design itself avoided ostentatiousness in favor of spartan utility — fitting, for the Castle was said to function as the place where the Companions waged their battles during the Endless Night.

He soon stood in front of the gates to the Castle's grounds and looked at the towering suits of armor standing guard on either side. The gate itself was larger than any city gate he had seen, easily capable of allowing four or more of the mursashu horse-drawn carriages to pass through with space left to spare.

The suits of armor themselves stood at equivalent height with the gate and reminded him of the towering statues of the Gods he had seen arranged around the Shrine of Exabell. Though Molam was only of average height, even the tallest Northern Tribespeople would find themselves scarcely able to reach the shinplates.

Nevertheless, he stepped up and bowed to the guardians of the gate. "Should the two of you be so complacent when someone approaches?"

They knelt. The ponderous movements would have looked unnatural to him if he did not know the spirits that inhabited those suits of armor. The kneeling made him wary, for it was not for him. In his years of growing up in the Castle, none of the spirits knelt even to RainBringer.

Is it complacency when we recognize the approaching presence? The silver one, a veritable giant the size of a building, leaned in close with a bowed head. We greet you, Fiery One. It then extended an index finger the size of a pillar to Molam in greeting. Welcome back, human child.

We greet you, Fiery One. The golden one also extended its metallic index finger to Molam. It seemed only yesterday that you left. How was your time in the human realm?

Is that all you have to say to me? The phoenix flapped an annoyed wing. Is the boy's travel more interesting to ask after?

Though all the spirits spoke directly to his mind, their thoughts were distinct and had a separate cadence that made them unique.

Your slumber was known to us all. We await your rebirth so you may resume your place among us.

Slumber is a kind word for imprisonment. The phoenix, somehow, peered down while looking up at the two suits of gigantic armor. But no matter. I will be completing my rebirth during the Festival of the Hero.

The golden armor leaned backwards. Are you here to speak to RainBringer?

Not for myself. The phoenix shook its head. RainBringer and I have already made an accord. I am here to lend my support to this boy here, who is something of an… incompetent benefactor.

Molam brought his hand up in exasperation; it passed harmlessly through the spirit's ethereal form.

We understand. The silver armor stood up, a lumbering but quiet motion. Perhaps the armor was well-oiled. RainBringer is currently not here as she tends to her responsibility as herald of Spring, but it is possible she will return by dusk.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

"And the Princess…?" Molam found himself asking before he could stop himself. The question lingered in the air as both giants seemed to still be in the moment.

RainBringer's daughter has accepted her duty at DuskWing's lair in the Endless Sands, the golden armor answered. Once she claims the Black Pyramid, it will become her Lair.

"I see." Molam hadn't expected a different answer, but some part of him had hoped otherwise. "Given DuskWing's lingering presence, will she be safe?"

RainBringer's daughter is becoming a full-fledged dragon at almost a thousand years old. The silver one pointed out. RainBringer would have never allowed her daughter to attempt if success was difficult.

Molam nodded. Though it irked him that RainBringer would choose now of all times to allow the Princess to leave the Castle, there was nothing he could do. "I suppose she's finally getting her wish to see the human realm."

And her wish for a name? The golden armor asked. You had better give her one before your kindred do.

"They aren't my kindred." Molam replied reflexively. For some reason, Kalle, Primrose, and Shurra's figures flashed unbidden in his mind. "Not all of them," he amended under his breath.

He thinks of names and discards them all the time. The phoenix's voice carried a teasing tone. Decisive in everything else but this.

Molam ignored the spirits, turning to the silver one. "May I enter now?"

With a hand, the silver armor pushed open the right-side door of the giant gate — a small opening, but plenty large enough for Molam himself.

If you have time, perhaps you should visit the Library. That one has not left their dusty scrolls since you left.

Oh, why bother? The phoenix began, that one never—

Molam brushed another hand through the phoenix, speaking loudly to the silver armor. "I will pay them my respects. Thank you for opening the gate."

And he walked through.

***

A sense of nostalgic wistfulness threatened to overwhelm Molam as he walked into the Castle. Perhaps due to the lack of any furniture or decorations, the interior of the bare entrance hall still evoked a sense of smallness in a way that none of the City Lord Mansions could ever do. Cold and uninviting, yet spotless as though its very existence did not understand the concept of the ravages of time. Though the stories said it was made for humans, everything about it gave Molam a keen sense that humans no longer lived here.

Or at least, he amended, that humans had not lived there for a long time.

"Your brethren still do a complete job of cleaning, I see." Molam continued down the hallway, making his way to the stairs leading to his old room.

My kind certainly excels at anything we put our efforts to do.

"The others, perhaps. The one on my shoulder only knows to wait for others to help it rebirth."

When I do, I will perch on your head and burn off that nest you call your hair.

"Add hair burning to the list of things your kind excels at then. Consider me impressed."

I can do it better than you can come up with a name.

Molam didn't respond to that, choosing to just walk up the winding stairs. Twenty-eight steps to the second floor, just as he remembered it. Another hallway, equally bare and uninviting, yet familiar all the same. Soon, he stood in front of the door to his old room.

You certainly became silent. The phoenix remarked. Was recognizing your inability to name things so shocking?

At first, Molam didn't answer. Then, "I don't have any aura for you to read."

You still have a face.

"Oh, I do?" He responded dryly, glancing sideways at the spirit riding his shoulder. "I had almost forgotten. Thank you for the reminder; you excel at being a verbal mirror."

Not giving the spirit a chance to respond, he opened the door and looked within. Everything seemed to be just as he had left it, the same image he remembered when he had gazed back at this room just before he left. A single bed with a thick cover for cold nights. Two shelves, their borrowed contents returned to the Library just before he had left. Two desks and their chairs — one bare, one with a dragon chess board — both for studying, but a simple solution to separate reading materials and thoughts by topic.

If not for the lack of dust, he would have thought the room untouched. The caretaker spirits truly made their presence known without announcing it.

"Everything is just how I left it." He walked in, glancing around. The wistful feeling returned; something about wanting to be here but not knowing what to do first when he did get what he wanted. His eyes fell to the dragon chess board, seeing the single piece of parchment with two play pieces weighing it down. "Never mind."

He flipped the parchment over, recognizing her brushstrokes at once in the Old Tongue.

I'm sorry I couldn't be here when you returned, but Mother has finally agreed to let me claim Uncle Dusk's old Lair. They are saying that the unstable focal point can no longer be ignored, so I am to go settle in as soon as possible during Summer's Warmth. You know it's always been my dream to see the human world. Even if all I can see is the view on the way to the Black Pyramid, I cannot pass up this opportunity.

We heard from Fiery One about your travels, and what you're doing for the Oracle. It's very kind of you to help the Oracle with Fiery One's rebirth. Mother doubts you would succeed, but I know you better than that. When we next meet, I expect to be right.

I know that five years is a long time for humans, and Mother says you will have changed much. But when the Oracle sent your tribute to me, I told Mother that some parts of you hadn't changed. And if you did, I'm certain it will be for the better.

I found the dried honey bread to my liking! Unlike the burnt tributes, now it actually has taste.

As a reminder, I hope you have a name for me now. Not my nickname — a real name. You had at least five years!

She was still using Summer's Plague instead of Summer's Warmth. Four centuries since the change, but he supposed dragons lived even longer.

Molam set down the letter, sinking into his chair. So, she was really on her way to, or already at, the Black Pyramid in the Endless Sands. Because the letter was undated he couldn't be certain when this was written.

The spirit peered at the letter from his shoulder. It seems she was wrong about you having a name for her.

"Who said I didn't?" Molam murmured.

You are, of course, free to tell her her name when you next see her.

"I still have some time to come up with something better." He folded the letter, pocketing it. "Probably."

He sat there, looking dazedly at the empty dragon chess board, contemplating its hexagon tiles. A foreboding feeling of anxiety washed over him, one he couldn't quite place.

I would have thought you would show a happier face upon returning to the place you call home.

"I feel like I don't know what to do next. Like I've lost all sense of purpose." Molam admitted. "This was what I wanted, but why? What's the next move? To stay here forever?"

The spirit hopped off his shoulder to peer at him from the desk.

Your face shows —

"Oh, enough with the mirror act." Molam fell silent. "I am being serious. I will never be able to use aura, so my time until God Yven claims me again is limited. I've returned; then what? Bide away my remaining lifespan here?"

The spirit shrugged, strutting about his desk, then settling down on the dragon chess board. Your time is for you to do as you please. Not everyone is so fortunate as to be in a position to decide how they spend their own time.

Molam gave it a reproachful look. "I should have known better than to discuss this topic with an immortal." He stood up, stretching his shoulders. "I suppose it's time to go speak to my mentor about this."

Recoiling its head, the phoenix peered at him with one eye. Did you forget that, like me, that one is an immortal too?

But Molam was already at the door, looking back towards the spirit. He held out an arm. "Are you coming or not?"

This is going to be unpleasant, it grumbled, but flew towards his arm. Could you not be like a normal human and return home to sleep or something?

"Someone just said my time is for me to do as I please."

Perhaps I will only burn away half your hair so you can decide if you'd rather spend your time shaving away the other half or waiting for it to grow back.

"Ah, an exemplary use of your time."

Molam walked briskly up to the next floor, where the Library could be found. The same wave of nostalgia washed over him; his body remembered making this very walk almost everyday for many years, growing up in this Castle.

But the phoenix interrupted him just as he reached the Library. That one can wait. RainBringer returns.

He looked out the nearest window to see the previously white cloudy wisps surrounding the Castle replaced by ash-gray clouds tinged with a silver-blue sheen, expanding far off into the distance. Lightning crackled, briefly illuminating a serpentine form coiling through the sea of clouds. Moments later a low rumble echoed across the cloudscape, reminiscent of an approaching beasts' growl.

"Those are certainly her clouds."

Are you sure you want to keep her waiting?

Molam glanced at the door to the Library. RainBringer could perceive it as a slight for him to not greet her when she returned. His mentor would not care; perhaps his mentor didn't even know that Molam had returned. Molam wasn't even sure what his question was, which would certainly irk his mentor for wasting their time.

He turned away for the stairs that would lead down to the entrance, running as fast as he could. The phoenix was right.

Rain waits for no one.