A lone woman stood at the heights of imperium. Statuesque, she observed the static city below with scorn. Her flowing hair, though tied, still came down to her waist. Its color would match a rose under a moonlit night. Her eyes burned with a wrathful ferocity, though her features only revealed slight contempt for her surroundings. From her temples, two black horns jutted outwards and came to a fine point just beyond her periphery. In her hand, lightly grasped, was an obscene blade. It resembled a katana, but the similarities ended at a quick glance. It was nearly twice the size of a normal blade, longer than a greatsword, thinner than one, and slightly curved towards its end. Its edge radiated a crimson essence that promised its enemies a swift deliverance.

She cast her gaze downward to observe the myriad of scars littering her body. Across her torso was a light armor of sorts made of black steel. It covered her chest and wrapped tightly around her waist. Covering her legs was a feathery skirt that cut off at her calves. Though it would appear unsuitable for battle, there was no fight she would face wherein a long skirt would matter in the slightest. She hadn’t been truly tested by anyone in a great deal of time, and even if she was, she would gladly accept her death if it was fated so.

The sound of footsteps interrupted her pensive thoughts. Even as they grew louder and louder, she refused to turn around to gaze at the bustling crowd. There was no one who could draw her attention, after all. No one left to challenge her atop the tower’s peak. Not seriously, anyway.

“Sister…?“

A deep voice came from one of the intruders. Though she still paid it no mind, it did sound familiar somehow. Something deep in her subconscious called out to her, but in the short moment that passed, she couldn’t make out its origin.

“So you are still here, aiding the Black Sorceress. Archizend confirmed as much, though as cryptically as ever. Really now, I shouldn’t be so surprised. I suppose I had hoped it to be a lie, but… the truth is here before me.“

A witty smile crept across the woman’s face, though she still didn’t turn to the one speaking to her. “I almost didn’t recognize you. Your voice, I mean. It’s been oh so long, hasn’t it?“

“Nakir, is that your-“ A light, feminine voice came from behind her this time.

“Yes, little one. That is my eldest sister, Arkiel.“

“But then… where’s the Sorceress? Why did the gem lead us here?“

Arkiel chuckled gruffly. Both her facial appearance and voice were beautifully androgynous. If it weren’t for her feminine body, it would be nigh impossible to tell whether she was male or female. After a while, the horned woman finally turned to face the intruders with naught one iota of fear nor surprise gracing her expression. “That’s Imagon, then? His little backup plan seemed to go the way he expected, it seems.“

“What do you mean?“

“I mean what I say. He tricked you. Here, hand it over. That thing. His soul.“

Nakir stepped forward without anxiety, extending the gem towards Arkiel.

“Wait!“ Ceres warned, but Nakir looked at her with a gentle smile.

“Don’t worry, my dear. It’s okay.“

Accepting the violet gem, Arkiel then closed her eyes and began murmuring a strange hymn. Not even Nakir could make out what she was saying, but nonetheless it was obvious she was casting some kind of spell. Bands of archaic symbols burned into the arm she held the gem with. After a faint chime whistled away amongst the harsh winds around her, the gem began to glow brighter and brighter.

“This is no guiding stone. It is a phylactery, binding a piece of Imagon’s soul to this world. Part of him may have passed, but this version of him remains here with us. It just needs to be released.“

A blinding light erupted from the gem as cracks formed on its exterior. Slowly, it began to break and tear apart like a newly born hatchling bursting forth from an egg. Once the light passed and sight returned to all those present, the same skeletal mage they had fought not an hour ago appeared before them, not a scratch on him.

“Welcome back, Imagon.“

“Lady Arkiel! You have brought me back from the dead! Tremendous! Thank you, my lady. Thank you!“ Imagon fell to his knees, almost as if praying to some deity.

“Not quite.“

Even with Imagon’s limited facial expression, it was clear that he was confused. He peered upwards in befuddlement. “I’m sorry my lady, but I don’t understand. What do you mean by ‘not quite’?“

“You’re just a copy of the real thing. A piece of him he left behind. It isn’t as if I truly resurrected you. No being can do such a thing without paying a hefty price.“

“It’s all the same to me, my lady. I am simply happy to serve you with the best of my-“

Imagon’s head fell from his body abruptly, following a red flash. As his skull shattered into a dozen pieces on the floor, his body was bisected perfectly down the middle, each half falling limply to the side. Imagon the Eternal had died for the second time. Technically, the third time.

Arkiel stared apathetically at her blade, then swung it to the side as if flinging blood off its edge. As Imagon was undead, however, no blood left its mark nor left her blade. “Perhaps you should have won the first time, my servant. Those too weak in this world are not granted second chances. They will always be lambs to the slaughter. Food for those stronger than them. If only you had learned from my example.“

A silence permeated the tower’s top. The cold wind began to carry Imagon’s bone fragments across the floor and eventually off of its sheer edge. They tumbled all the way down to the plaza below, where the innumerable bodies of mages still lay from the early morning. Eloise’s massacre seemed so long ago now to them all. All but Fatalinya and her valiant subordinates, who were too shocked from the events that had transpired to make even the slightest gasp out of shock or awe.

“Sister,“ Nakir spoke firmly. “Tell us where the Sorceress is, and we shall leave. We do not wish to fight you. I do not wish to fight you. Not again.“

“Really? That’s no fun. While you’re here, we might as well spar just like old times. Or are you afraid your little pet is going to get hurt?“

Nakir didn’t respond. Instead, he moved his arms outward in order to bar Arkiel from Ceres, who was standing a couple feet behind him.

“Nia was distraught when she came back with the blue one. Well, distraught in her own way. She told me that you’d situated yourself as some divine protector of a human girl. And now that I’m seeing it, crystal clear, it really is concerning.“

“It’s just the same as you and her. The same as when I saved Nia’s life. But she was a different person then. She wasn’t so consumed by grief at the time. At least, it didn’t appear that way.“

Arkiel scoffed and pointed her blade at Nakir and the others. Such a large blade was seemingly weightless to her. She held it aloft with but one hand, and even then it did not falter an inch under the gravity pulling it downward.

“Don’t play dumb, brother. I see the link. It’s suicide. For a pathetic human with no power on her own as well. I shouldn’t care, but it pisses me off to no end nonetheless. Their kind must know their place. Mortals are not granted second chances. The sins of mankind are far too great.“

Nakir chuckled lightly to himself. His human form began to shift to one resembling Arkiel’s, half human and half dragon. “Dragons. Anisai. They’ll all die out, just as the kel-anisai did. Humans are so much more malleable. They are more than the weight of their worth. Each one has the promise of changing this world for the better. We’re a dying breed, sister. No matter how many times we come back, we will never evolve.“

Arkiel smiled madly, and her eyes widened to an unnatural degree. “You really have gone insane. The Goddess created humans to serve us. Why else would they be inferior in every way?“

“There is more to life than killing and eating! Don’t you understand? I’m not here to kill you, sister. I had hoped to save you. And save Nia. Save you from yourselves. Why can’t you see that…?“ Nakir’s voice broke. For the first time, Ceres watched as Nakir succumbed to his emotions. It wasn’t an intellectual debate anymore. Nakir was pleading to his sister with everything he had.

Arkiel’s smile faded, and she stared into Nakir’s face coldly. Not an ounce of emotion graced her now. The roaring winds picked up, blowing her hair westward. “Let us settle this how our race has settled disputes since time immemorial. Surely you won’t dishonor yourself even further by denying me a duel?“

“Must everything end in violence with you? Do you hate me that much?“

“No, I don’t hate you.“ Arkiel gripped her blade firmly. “I hate how you left us. You forced my hand, and I killed you. I left you in those forsaken Greatwoods expecting you to finally die as you wished… by Archizend or any matter of strangeness there. But here you are, repeating the same tired phrases. Doing the same things. I’m surprised Nia didn’t weep at the sight of it… but on the other hand, she isn’t capable of that anymore. I hate this dying world, brother. I hate the humans that claim its lands. I hate the things they do. I hate the choices they make. They are so very weak, and so they must prey upon everything weaker than them to feel strong. It’s disgraceful. Revolting. And now you appear before me as if nothing happened, with this girl no less.“

Nakir took a step forward. His protective stance relaxed. “I know. I realize I can’t erase the things I’ve done. One little girl saved doesn’t make up for the pain I caused her village. Not one bit. But it’s not about that. I want to make things right. With you, with Nia, with everyone. Otherwise, I’ll never be able to sleep soundly.“

“What do you mean by that?“ Ceres asked in a sharp tone. “What was that supposed to mean?“

Arkiel scoffed and shook her head in dismay. “You couldn’t even tell her?“

“Tell me what?“ Ceres shook Nakir’s arm. He turned his back and knelt down in front of her.

“Do you remember when I told you I saved Nia’s life? Well, there was more to it than that. I knew her father long before then. I too was very different than I am now. I did horrible things for that man. As I said, things I can never make up for. For many years… I terrorized your village. I kidnapped people from it and brought them to the Imperium. He never told me what it was for, but I-“

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Ceres’s contained emotions burst forth in fury. Her words pierced Nakir’s bare heart. “You lied. You lied to me! Back when we met, I asked you! AND YOU LIED TO MY FACE!“

Nakir raised his hands, almost as if to deflect the painful words. “Please, Ceres. I never lied, but I never told you the truth, either. I had nothing to do with Asteria… but I was the bane of your village.“ Nakir clasped Ceres’s scaled arm. Though it was cold and felt like a knight’s heavy armor, he hoped his warmth would reach her. “I’m sorry. Please. Forgive me. I know it’s selfish. I know it will be hard. But please, understand that I, the me I am now, would never hurt you or your family.“

Ceres slumped to her knees. Her eyes were downcast, but she seemed to be somewhere else. It was as if she were staring down into an impossibly dark and unending empty well. “My grandparents… my friends… the attack when I was young. I lost them all. You killed them all. You expect me to forgive you? Like that? You really are crazy…“ Ceres sunk back into herself. She stared deeply into the silver dagger in her hand.

Arkiel spoke, her words digging at Nakir’s mind like some parasite. “Do you see now? The anger. The resentment. This world is full of it. Nia simply wants to bring Lily back. Lily will purify this planet. If it’s rotten to the core, then all we need is to gut it and replace it with something new. We must face the impossible and reach out for a better future.“

Nakir pondered. It was all he could do in the moment. Everything seemed to be falling apart. Was he so evil? Deep down inside, mirrors of himself from ages past had slowly revealed to him sealed memories. Dark memories. Were they really him, though? If a being is perfectly remade in the image and psychology of the original, is it still the same being? After all this time, all the strife, was he really just acting out of his need to be forgiven?

“Last chance, brother. Fight me honorably, and I shall cut you down with this mortal blade. Your life will finally end. For real this time.“

No. He was different now. He didn’t save Ceres out of regret. He didn’t even have the memories to feel regret at the time. Why did he save her, then? Was there any real reason? When he saw that little girl being mauled by vicious shadows, there wasn’t a thought that raced through his mind. He acted on impulse. There was no ulterior motive. No regret. No anger. No resentment. It wasn’t even because it was the right thing to do. He had no reason. No reason at all.

“I have no reason. People do things for no reason all the time. Whether they are good or bad makes no difference. ‘Good’ and ‘bad’ are subjective. People are not divided into two. Black and white. But they aren’t gray, either. They’re filled to the brim with wonderful colors. Some may not even exist, but in the mind they do. I had no reason to kill. I had no reason to save your life, Ceres. But I do know that what I do now isn’t for no reason, and it isn’t out of hate. My love for you is beyond all that. You are much too precious to let go, and if Asteria is that precious to you as well, then I will gladly die to protect you both. Forgive me or not, I do not care. Just know that you will always be my little one. No matter what.“

Arkiel smirked. “Touching, really. But that was your last chance. Your fleeting moment is over. Prepare to die.“

A red flash. Air cut in twine. A movement so precise and quick that the human eye could not even perceive it in time. Not even Raum could have foreseen its beginning nor its end. All the same, the blade mercilessly came down. Without much effort, Arkiel had sent a crimson wave down onto Nakir’s head. Though it wouldn’t reach him. The blade had been deflected by a violet rapier; a strike of lightning in a summer cloud. The violet diverted the red haze, and Nakir’s life was saved in a mere moment.

Arkiel examined Nakir’s savior. Fatalinya stood in front of everyone, her rapier outstretched and bent at an awkward angle. She was exhausted. With all of her power, she had dashed forward faster than she ever had before. It just so happened that it was enough to clash with the dragon’s mortal strike.

“Cute.“

Before Arkiel could raise her blade once more, the remaining members of the Resistance rushed to her aid. The bastion of flesh managed to protect their leader, but following a red horizontal slash, they were all cut in half within a second. A bloody mess painted Imagon’s disintegrating remains. The Resistance was no more. Or more precisely, Fatalinya was all that was left of them. She stared in disbelief at the Red Dragon, as if she were some nightmarish creature unfathomable to her. Perhaps she was.

“Are you finished, human? Does my brother really mean that much to you?“

The leader of the Tyranny Resistance shut her eyes and raised her head. She trembled with fear, though it didn’t halt her speech. “...You’re right. This world is too cruel. It’s as if some horrible god is watching over us. It’s not fair…“

“I’m glad you agree. Now-“

Fatalinya opened her eyes and stomped her foot into the ground. A thin layer of blood coated its bottom. “I’m not done, bitch! It is unfair at times, but that gives you no right to take the lives of others. This anger you talk about. Selfishness. It only exists because we perpetuate it. We have a choice. We always do. I’m a hypocrite, I know. But at least I can say that you and me… we’re in the wrong. We are the rot in the middle of the world. The stain on the good natured…“ She nervously turned her eyes downward to look upon her deceased comrades. Upon the sight of their lifeless faces, an urge to vomit rose up in her throat. Though, quickly, it was subdued by a much more painful feeling. Her sword-arm, the one holding her tarnished rapier, was completely broken. As she realized it, the weapon dropped from her limp, disfigured hand and fell softly onto one of the bloodied bodies.

Nakir stood in between the two women, with Raum at his side.

Arkiel rolled her eyes. “Fine then. Suppose you’re right. But what is there to do? We must kill to survive. We must perpetuate it to stay afloat. There is no other recourse. You’ve faced it yourself. Nia forced you to violence, as did the world to her. The cycle doesn’t end until we give up or break it. I, for one, will not simply disappear without a trace. I cannot die before I complete this one task she has entrusted to me. If you plot to stand against her, I cannot just sit idly by and watch.“

Screaming sparks flew across the Imperium’s peak. The Red Dragon and the Black Dragon met each other’s attacks with all the ferocity of their dragon lineage, but behind it were their hearts laid bare; made physical for the whirling world around them to see. Arkiel had made the first move, with Nakir halting her advance with one mighty claw. The mortal blade his sister wielded was no jest made to trick and deceive him. With every strike, he could feel the weight of his soul being tested. If the blade made contact and seriously damaged a vital part of him, it could instantly kill him. Forever. At least, that’s what he could gather in the limited moments of respite between each strike.

Arkiel’s speed was truly unmatched, even for dragonkind. Every clash was a fight for his life. If Nakir faltered for a moment, if he hesitated or let his focus waver, his soul would be forfeit. He also knew that if he didn’t protect Raum or did fall to her blade, everyone else could very well be slaughtered by her all the same.

Raum tried to concentrate on his offensive spells. Words and symbols alike floated to his mind by instinct but when it came to unleashing them, Arkiel’s evasion was far too great; akin to catching a firefly in a windstorm. The Sirithisian mage failed over and over to target his foe, and was saved by Nakir’s intervention more times.

In an act of desperation, Nakir sucked up a great deal of air into his lungs, let it spark and conjure, and released a powerful stream of azure flame. The horizontal pillar of fire outstretched farther than the tower’s peak and moved with his body as it left his mouth.

However, the Red Dragon would not fall for the one trick she knew her brother had. It was trivial to avoid such a feat any lowly dragon could perform. With her own conjured bout of flame, she deployed a swirling miasma of smoke and cinder that clouded the Imperium’s top in an ashen fugue.

The man and the dragon were lost, their vision distorted by blackness. Within the dark clouds, a figure danced along its edge. A shadow hopped from one cloud to the next. In its hand was a hazy mass of crimson. The sight of it injected fear into them both. The figure ducked and weaved, looking for an easy opening. A sure strike.

Suddenly, a blinding light shone through the clouds like the grace of some holy being. Raum stood defiantly, the light erupting from the end of his staff. Black and white birds alike swirled around him as he looked upon his dragon friend with a slight smile. “Don’t let her win, Nakir. We only need to force her to spread her wings. Let her fly once more.”

With a firm nod, the Black Dragon faced down his sister. Her eminence was bathed in scarlet, almost as if reality itself was bending to her will. Her inner ardor spilled out from her mind. “It matters not if you win or lose. Aza will fall all the same. Nia has no more use of it.”

Nakir reached down into himself. Ancient magic long passed down over the years had been locked deep within. It was a failsafe most dragons enacted before they died, willingly or otherwise. Long ago, it was said to him that it is only when a dragon remembers their past that they regain their true power. Although, when they do, it is a sign that their death is imminent. Nakir wasn’t scared, though. He’d already made his decision. Hell or high water, he would give his life to save Ceres. That hadn’t changed since the day he’d met her in the Greatwoods.

The surge of magic flowed into his veins and arteries, pumping through his blood and igniting his mind. With a powerful roar, he puffed out his chest and reared back with his arms at his side. Streaks of radiant color shot out from his chest and mouth, darting towards Arkiel within a matter of seconds. The sheer power of the roar alone was enough to crack and shatter part of the ground they all stood upon, shaking the spire beneath their feet. It was no small feat to damage the almighty Imperium, and as such Nakir proved he was nothing like the lowly dragon in Arkiel’s eyes.

Though she managed to avoid the attack for the most part, a beam or two managed to pierce her evasive techniques and cut into her sides. Unfortunately, it wasn’t quite enough to stave off her final assault. With an upstanding strike, Arkiel threw her mortal blade down onto Nakir’s exhausted form with all of her might.

Ching!

Nakir slowly opened his eyes in realization that he hadn’t, in fact, died. Some force had managed to not only beat Arkiel’s speed but also deflect her most powerful blow yet. His mouth fell open in astonishment. Tears welled up in his eyes.

Arkiel’s irises blazed with burning hatred. “What? Impossible! You…? A weakling like you?”

Ceres stood between her and Nakir, claw at her side. In her other hand was her father’s dagger, firmly upheld after just being used to deflect a being infinitely stronger than her. In its shining blade, one could almost see the proud visage of a certain halberd-wielding scoundrel.

“How…?”

Without wasting another second, Ceres lashed out with her open claw, tearing and shearing the Red Dragon’s armor and stomach with relative ease. Each knife-like appendage tore open her skin and pierced the inner-workings of her body, inducing a level of pain unfelt for eons past. Had it been two strikes, it could have been fatal. All the same, Arkiel leapt backward and fell onto her knees. Blood poured out from beneath her grasping hand. The dragon’s blood melded with the blood of the fallen Tyranny Resistance, creating a horrific red spiral of ichor. Blood dripped from her lips.

“Ceres…”

The hybrid girl gazed backward at Nakir with a fierce look. “I still can’t forgive the dragon that butchered my village for years. It isn’t possible.” She looked down for a moment pensively, then looked into Nakir’s teary eyes. “But… that’s okay. Because that dragon wasn’t you. The Nakir I know would never do anything like that. Not in a million lifetimes.” She gave him the warmest smile he had ever seen from her, spun around, and hugged him with all of her remaining strength. Having just performed the miracle she had, that strength was almost non-existent. Nakir smiled in turn, and held her with both warmth and security.

“You brat… you got lucky. Or, maybe not. Maybe I underestimated you.” Arkiel spat out a globule of sanguine pus. She haphazardly stood up, nearly falling under her own weight. She sheathed her mortal blade as if to make peace, but her eyes told a very different story.

“Seems our time is up,” Raum said, watching the city below.

“What do you mean?” Nakir replied, but his question was answered as quickly as it was asked.

A terrible force had begun rampaging throughout Aza. Some sort of man or bird, or a combination of the two, wielding a fiery battle axe. A winged enigma borne of hellfire stalked its streets, reducing the already war-torn city to ash. It seemed to be murmuring something, but it could not be heard from the Imperium’s height.

“What is that creature?”

Raum shook his head listlessly. “Not entirely sure. But I have a feeling our friend Grovalt might know.”

A light, pained chuckle sounded from their wounded adversary. A fanatical smile graced her face. “Are you happy, Nia!? I’ve fulfilled my promise! My mission is done!” She walked gracefully to the edge of the precipice, where she once stood when they had initially confronted her. “It was fun, brother. But every battle must reach its end. You’ll see, eventually.” With a lazy wave, Arkiel fell from Nakir’s view and off the peak’s edge. Nothing but the wind remained.

“Sister!”

A great, red dragon then replaced her form. It flew wildly upwards, then stopped in the air for a moment. “Take care of that pet of yours.” Then, with a huff of smoke, the Red Dragon breathed a bolting array of fiery lightning at the Imperium’s side, easily breaking through the black steel exterior and interior. The invincible architecture Zenzi had described before easily fell before the power of a dragon. A wounded one, at that. Thus the Imperium began to crack and fold onto itself. Its peak broke and burned, just as Aza burned beneath the fiery fiend’s axe. Leaving the chaos behind, Arkiel flew away into the horizon.

Ceres clung onto consciousness, and clung even harder onto Nakir. Her only lifeline she had had when at death’s door was now with her here and now, at the maw of oblivion again.