Palar’gog’s Story

Frein and Elizzel were led not towards the tower, but to a mansion just near the edge of the central island. Already they could hear the argument.

“Like I said, I don’t care!” Frill’s raised voice amazingly still felt soothing, at least as far as Frein was concerned. He wouldn’t mind getting yelled at by a voice that was so easy to listen to. Maybe that was the reason why the other side of the conversation was laughing manically.

“Care or not, sweetie-pie, you sure are taking this poorly. You’re the sort of child who stubbornly insists on doing the opposite of whatever your elders say. Don’t go alone in the forest, and yet you do. Eat your vegetables, and yet you don’t. Stop running around, and yet you keep running until you tumble over and cry for help.”

Frein didn’t have the time to admire and observe the mansion’s interior as Su’karix quickly led them to the same room as Frill. She opened a sliding door and allowed them to enter first.

“Wait inside while I bring you tea,” she whispered.

The room was oddly minimalistic for a mansion's interior. Frein couldn’t avoid comparing the soft floor to tatami mats. The walls were also made out of some sort of folded wood or paper, depicting abstract flowing images which reflected the evening light in such a beautiful way that it made looking away difficult.

The interior wasn’t overly large, nor was there much furniture. A small center table was placed in the middle, with one pillow seat where an oddly glowing Frill currently knelt. She was too distracted to realize someone else had entered.

In front of her was a floating metallic blob, swirling above the table. Frill was cautious enough to put her tea glass on the side to prevent any particulates from dropping in it.

“Hey, Palar’gog,” Frein casually said as he entered the room proper.

“Hey,” the blob responded.

Frill snapped to her, a surprised expression on her face. “What are you doing here?”

“Dream stuff.”

“You too, huh?” Palar’gog commented. His blob form swirled rapidly. It reminded Frein of Sam for some reason. “Wait, do I know you from somewhere, kid?”

“I’ve studied you a bunch,” Frein answered. “What you are, what you did, speculations about you. If what Su’karix said about Destiny is true, then I should’ve appeared in one of your gazing sessions. You’re not trying to be a god still, are you?”

“What if I am?”

He shrugged. “I’m interested to know what you’ve tried. I would sort of like to be one.”

Manic laughter filled the room once again. It was so lively and terrible that the meiyal around them shook with malice, confused whether to be angry, disappointed, or amused.

“Wait,” Palar’gog abruptly stopped. He swirled for a few seconds and came to a halt. “You’re serious.”

“Yeah. But this isn’t about me.” Frein gestured towards Frill. “She made the appointment with you. I’d hate to take the spotlight.”

“What’s your name?”

“Frein. Frein Nivan.”

Palar’gog hovered towards him. “Can you believe this babe, Frein, my dude?”

“Babe?” Frill turned, her arms crossed.

“She wants to integrate with me! I’ve never had a chick come on to me like that before!” The Dragon of Eternal Winter produced an elbow out of its blob and nudged Frein’s shoulders. “I think she likes me.”

“I think you got the wrong idea there, Palar’gog,” Frein whispered back. “She wants to integrate with your meiyal-charged material. Not you.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

Frein pressed his lips and subtly shook his head.

Palar’gog’s blob form turned to a sphere filled with spikes as he spun rapidly. He stammered, trying to explain the reason behind his logic. He couldn’t find the right words.

“Really?” he asked finally, defeat following his voice. “Aww…”

Elizzel was the last to enter the room. Her presence caused Palar’gog to rotate towards her. He did so in a slow, lethargic way.

“Hey, Elizzel,” said the Dragon of Eternal Winter in a low rumbling voice. A long sigh escaped him. “You’re still mad at me, are you?”

“Palar’gog,” Elizzel acknowledged. “Yes.”

The blob sighed again, deeper this time. “Yet another one. Of course. Where’s an orc when you need one?”

“What about them?” Frein asked before he could stop himself.

“I kill them when I’m stressed. They seemed to like it, so it sort of just became a habit.”

“That’s not a good habit,” Frill commented.

“So you say. Those Norcs were blood-crazed, babe. They literally killed each other for sport. When the Divine Severing happened, they assumed that only blood sacrifices could gain back their favor. It was bloodbath after bloodbath, and they needed a medium.”

“Norcs?” Frein asked.

“Northern Orcs, dude.”

“Right… And you were the medium?”

“Well, the other half of me was.”

“Excuse me?” Frein, Elizzel, and Frill all asked at the same time.

The door slid open to reveal Su’karix with tea sets and pillow seats hovering around her.

“Settle down, everyone. Let’s not break into too many tangents.” She organized the pillows and tea, allowing for Frein and Elizzel to take one side of the table while she took the opposite. Palar’gog’s blob took the last available side, opposite Frill, but remained hovering.

“I will let Palar’gog clarify his story, after which we will immediately return to our main agenda. We can only hold this meeting for so long.” She turned to Frill Veli. “Especially since you’ve been here for a while now, Frill.”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Everyone agreed, so the winter dragon resumed his story.

“Well, not a lot of people know this—you know, I think everyone that knows about this is dead, except for Su’karix and Alphazzel…wait, is Alphazzel dead or not?”

“Get to the point, dragon,” Su’karix calmly demanded.

“Jeez, calm down, babe.”

Thunder responded for the Thousand-Year Storm. Multiple thunderclaps to be specific. Frill and Elizzel jumped out of their seats while Frein cracked the table trying to keep himself calm.

“Oh, my bad,” said the Visitor. The storm dragon gestured absentmindedly and the crack immediately mended itself. He was immediately impressed. “Cool.”

“Alright, sorry, sorry.” Two small limbs grew out of the blob, gesturing to stop. “Force of habit.”

“I won’t ask again, Palar’gog,” Su’karix warned. Frein braced himself for meiyal pressure, but none came. Only a cold stare from the Thousand-Year Storm trained directly on the Eternal Winter.

“Well, the truth is, there are seven other Palar’gogs in Brymeia. Palar’gog was the name of our kingdom. Seven winter dragons, four of which were Worldborns and three, including myself, were Deitars. My god in particular, though I have forgotten its name, upheld the Concepts of Wonder, Discovery, and Advancements.”

Frein had to remind himself that ‘kingdom’ was the collective term for a group of dragons. He also made sure to make a mental note of these Concepts and how they could possibly relate to other information he had already gathered.

“You’re just saying that to make it look like you’re not the bad guy,” he said. Granted there wasn’t much written about Palar’gog other than he was the only publicly named Sealed One. Even access just to that information needed Princess Kristel’s authentication.

“I am so not the bad guy!” the blob said in defense. “Look, alright? Four of us loved the attention from the orcs. I was one of them because I enjoyed their sacrifices and I had power to give in return. It was a deal that they asked me to sign, okay?”

“What happened to the other three?” Frill asked.

Palar’gog shrugged. “I don’t know. Dead, probably. They were even crazier than I am. Went to fight too many magnificence of giants. Glacial giants too. I mean, they were Worldborns, but they didn’t really pick their fights, you know?”

“You don’t look like you’re sorry at all, considering you’re part of the kingdom,” Elizzel commented.

“It was a long time ago, alright, buddy?”

“I’m not your buddy!”

“Eh, whatever. Stay mad.” The blob turned back to Frein. “In any case, I didn’t go around flaunting my power, killing innocents and all that tyrannical stuff. I was having fun experimenting with blood meiyal.”

“Isn’t that forbidden or something?” Frein asked.

“Who decided that? Your lords, your rulers? Eh. They value life too much. No wonder they’re so afraid of my blood pools. Look, I don’t care. As far as I was concerned, I never made trouble for anybody. I used my own blood if I had to.”

“You said there were other three Palar’gogs who sided with the Norcs?” Frill followed up.

“Ah, yes. Them, I’m sure are actually dead now. One died during the fight with Evanclad, the second was sealed. He was the actual Sealed One, see? The First Monarch assumed he was immortal because of his Deitar status, and because we all look alike. Without sustainable meiyal and because of the Diving Severing, he eventually died within the seal. Not a good way for a dragon to die, honestly.

“The third one stole my research and hid back in Oh’strol Continent for years, until heroes from Eva’s era defeated her. She’s the one who permanently destroyed the land and the one most people refer to when talking about history.”

“And you?” Frein asked.

“Well…” the dragon blob turned to the dragon human, and the three guests quickly followed.

“I invited him to the Great Dragon Kingdom Exodus. He was one of the first to leave this world.” Su’karix drank her tea, eyes fixed on Elizzel. “You don’t believe what you’re hearing…”

“How am I supposed to buy that?” said the faunel, her voice struggling to stay calm, her eyes were daggers trained at the blob. “You made our people suffer so much! You didn’t kill innocents? No? Is decimating entire cities for blood sacrifices not the same as killing civilians? Huh?”

Her breathing dragged, but her eyes flared, forcing her to her feet. “We made a pact with Oh’strol! Evanclad sent entire armies to help the continent because they couldn’t handle your deranged orcs! No, you didn’t kill those innocent people, your orcs did! You empowered them, you worthless garbage! Stop playing innocent!”

Palar’gog and Su’karix both turned away from Elizzel, directing their eyes towards Frein. They were inconsiderate, as if telling him to put a leash on his misbehaving pet. It rubbed him the wrong way.

“Why would I stop her?” said the Visitor. “You think just because they’re all in the past, I should just convince her to let it go? You think I don’t understand because I’m mortal and you’re close to gods?”

Frein flared his Siffera to the limit. As expected, both Deitars didn’t even flinch. Compared to them, he was simply breathing. But it wasn’t the display of power or the surge of meiyal that kept both beings of power to remain silent and in awe. The Visitor did not focus the Art to strengthen his physicality or his intimidating aura. Instead, he invested all of it to project his ambition.

Godlike beings, through his observations with Schrodie and Evanclad, and even in the stories he had read before, they were all enamored by the grandiose ambition, by the impossible. And Frein’s ambition was beyond what even mere Worldborns and Deitars could imagine.

A world free of Nightmare.

“Let me make one thing clear,” he began, meiyal carrying his voice throughout the room. “We didn’t come here to absolve you of your sins, we didn’t come here to be convinced of your innocence. We came here for your powers. Own your mistakes and take responsibility. Don’t complain like a child.”

Meiyal pressure slammed into the room. Elizzel was brought to her knees, barely resisting even with Siffera coursing through the Tether. Frill’s glow was quickly fading, but she resisted somewhat, relying on both hands to keep her from getting squished. Frein fought through the force with his Art but he couldn’t move a muscle. None of them could breathe.

“Don’t mistake me for a juvenile, Visitor,” Palar’gog’s voice echoed, much louder compared to Frein’s. “You’re nothing but a footnote trying to make history.”

“That’s what I call being childish,” Frein retorted. He knew it would anger the Eternal Winter even more, but that was proving his point. And hopefully, he would only pay with meiyal-charged materials for his stubbornness.

“You—”

The pressure lifted and thunderclaps roared outside once again.

“Apologies, Visitor,” Su’karix’s voice was calm and collected, sipping from her tea. “Though I detest your choice of words, I must admit you do have a point. Apologize, Palar’gog.”

All the intimidation vanished from the Dragon of Eternal Winter. He kept stammering his words. “But it wasn’t even my fault! I didn’t do it!”

“Not in the eyes of the victims of those you empowered.” The Thousand-Year Storm gestured towards Elizzel. “She’s right. You are responsible for the people you provide with power.”

“I…” The blob paused and turned. Then it slumped on the table like spilled liquid. Palar’gog sighed, a long, drawn out one, before plopping back to its spherical form.

“Elizzel,” he began, “this might sound disingenuous, for in my heart and conscience, I know I did nothing wrong. However, if everyone says otherwise, then it must be true and I’m just missing the point. But personally, I know what’s important to me is that I desire no quarrel from any of you. I only want to be left alone with my studies.

“I went away with the Exodus because I know I’m no longer accepted in Brymeia. And it seems to be staying that way for the time being. I want to make amends, really.”

Silence filled the room for a short while, until everyone remembered to breathe.

“Wow,” Frein and Elizzel said at the same time. “That’s pretty mature of you.”

“So you forgive me?” Palar’gog asked, his voice trembling with anticipation.

“It’s a step, I suppose,” Elizzel said. “I can’t not consider it after a speech like that. Sorry about what I said earlier.”

Frein noticed Su’karix smiling at him.

“A conversation like this would’ve resulted in a war years ago,” she said. “Looking at it now, it does seem childish.”

The Visitor had learned his lesson. He neither agreed nor argued with the point. The Thousand-Year Storm only smiled even further.

“You’re very perceptive for one so young.”

“I know when someone’s trying to bait me.”

“Very cunning.” She finished her tea and placed it on the table. “Well then, I suppose it’s time for our main topic. First come first served, of course. Frill and Palar’gog. Do you agree to integrate with each other or not?”

“I don’t suppose you can explain what this exactly entails first?” Frill asked. She had remained somewhat silent throughout the entire discourse, but Frein could see she was absorbing every moment of it. Too respectful, too quick to bow in front of overwhelming power. But he could see that she was trying to change that.

“I suppose.” Su’karix motioned for snacks to appear. They were offered some crispy vegetable chips, assorted biscuits, and more tea, all delivered through floating plates and other containers as if the air was their very servant. “What would you like to know?”

Frein raised his hand. The Thousand-Year Storm gestured towards him. He popped one vegetable crisp into his mouth and spoke.

“Everything.”

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