The dragon’s mouth snaps open and another roar tears through us. A white light begins to glow down the back of its gullet. Mirzayael grabs my shoulder and yanks me back. I stumble, my wings flailing wildly, which in turn knock over Nek and Rei. The entire heap of us falls backward into a haphazard pile as a concussive blast crashes into the ceiling of the chamber before us. A cold wind and bright light flashes through the tunnel.

Mirzayael extracts herself from the pile first, picking up each of us one by one and hoisting us to our feet like a bunch of stumbling kittens.

“Good god,” I say, staring at the hole. A dragon. A real life dragon! Of course, plenty of things have been fantastical before now, but to see a creature you daydreamed about as a child—it’s truly something else! I immediately begin to wonder how the aerodynamics of such a creature would work. Does it need wind arcana to fly, like harpies? Can animals also wield magic? Each subsequent question leads to a new one.

Ice partially covers the hole, spearing toward us in long, jagged spikes along the ceiling and walls. Cautiously, yet with equal fascination, I creep back over and run my hand along the ice.

Not all of the chamber is made of crystals, then. Or at least, not of the geological variety. It’s largely been iced over by the dragon’s… attack?

“How is it doing that?” I ask Mirzayael. “Ice magic?”

“It seems to be a frost dragon,” she says. “And yes, they have ice affinities. Able to summon a hailstorm with their very breath.” She frowns. “I thought the Jorrians had hunted them to extinction. How one ended up down here… it doesn’t make any sense.”

The cavern rocks once more with the beast’s roar, sending a scattering of ice shards cracking off the rocks and raining down on us.

“Well,” I say, dusting myself off. “This certainly complicates the hot springs endeavor.”

“Are you sure it’s through here?” Mirzayael asks.

I close my eyes, summoning the Map Interface. Feeding more of my mana into the Core, I ask it to reach down into the chamber, then follow the path we’d already traced from the Catacombs plumbing system. The Core excitedly munches on some bits of ice and crystal as it complies, focusing its awareness down toward the base of the dragon’s cavern. The area surrounding the cave is solid stone. We might be able to dig beneath the dragon’s chamber, though that would take mana and time—not to mention, running the risk of structural collapse.

“It’s not the only way through,” I say. “But it’s the quickest. Tunneling beneath remains an option, though the dragon’s chamber would be much more convenient.”

“We should leave it be and return later,” Mirzayael suggests. “Either the creature will wander out the same way it came in, or it will starve, and then it will no longer be an issue.”

Nek brightens. “What do you suppose dragon meat tastes like? Maybe we shouldn’t let it wander back out.”

Mirzayael gives him a critical look. “And how do you plan to slay it, exactly?”

The felis falters.

Nek’s plan might be dangerous, but it’s not bad, really. It would be a pity to kill such a magnificent creature, but the Fyrethians are in desperate need of resources, and the meat and hide of a dragon could do wonders for the community. Survival comes first.

“Slaying it might be possible,” I say, considering my options. “Of course, getting the meat out of this chamber wouldn’t be trivial.”

Mirzayael snorts. “Only an outsider would think slaying a dragon is easier than transporting its meat.” Even so, she tips her head at me curiously. “What do you have in mind?”

“The Dungeon Core,” I say. “It’s very good at eating away stone. With its help, we wouldn’t have to fight the creature directly; rather we could let gravity do the work for us.”

Nek barks out a laugh, though it seems to be more from nerves than amusement. “A cave in? Can you really do that?”

I think back to the cave-in I’d inadvertently caused the first day I appeared here. “I am fairly sure I could.”

Mirzayael considers this. “Can you guarantee it would be safe? We can’t risk compromising the caverns around us.”

“That is a valid concern,” I allow. “And it might disrupt the Cattacomb’s plumbing system, which would be problematic for tracking the pipes to their source. I suppose I could try to fix them all in the aftermath, but… Hm, yes. Let me think on this, first.”

Cautiously, I edge my way back over to the hole I’d carved into the chamber.

“Careful,” Mirzayael says.

I slowly peek my head through the hole in the stone and ice.

The dragon is pacing impatiently around the bottom of the chamber. Its tail lashes from side to side, crashing through bits of ice and stone. It spreads its wings and attempts to flap them, but the chamber is too small for it to open fully. It growls, looking left and right, then puffs up its chest, rears back its head, and lets loose another blast of frost, which coats the nearby wall in a layer of white ice several feet thick. The dragon huffs, turning away in what seems to be frustration.

What’s it trying to achieve? Maybe Mirzayael is right and it somehow got trapped down here, and now it’s trying to find its way back out. But from my vantage point, the cavern seems entirely sealed—apart from the small hole I’d carved, anyway.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

It probably will starve at some point. Who knows how long that would take for a creature of such size. But I can’t imagine it would be a pleasant death. My cave-in plan might truly be a mercy.

Now, how much HP are we dealing with? Check, I think.

[Name: Ollie]

[Species: Frost Dragon]

[Class: N/A]

[Level: 43]

[HP: 2432/2500]

[Mana: 231/850]

[Role: The Dragon]

My stomach turns to ice. “God almighty.”

“What?” Mirzayael steps up behind me. “What’s wrong?”

I turn back to the others, Checking each of them just to be sure: none of them have a Role among their stats. I Check the dragon once again: its Role is as clear as day. And it has a name, despite none of the stingers or other creatures I’ve come across having any personal identifiers. I recall a conversation I’d previously had with Echo on a similar subject. Only System Users have Roles.

A chill runs down my spine.

“It’s like me,” I say. “It has a Role. I—I think there’s a person in there.”

“What?” Nek asks, skeptical. “What do you mean? It’s a beast. They’re not intelligent.”

“This one might be,” I insist. “I think I can talk to it.”

“Dragons can’t speak,” Mirzayael says. “No more than wolves or stingers can.”

“But they can hear, can’t they?” I ask. “He should be able to understand what I say, at least.”

“He?” Mirzayael asks, skeptical.

“His name is Ollie,” I say.

They all stare at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“Please trust me,” I beg. “Let me at least try to talk to him first!”

Nek and Mirzayael look at each other. Mirzayael shakes her head with a sigh. “Alright. But I’ll be standing right behind you, and at the slightest sign it intends to attack, I’ll be ripping you away from that opening, and we won’t be taking any more chances at exposing ourselves to that creature. If it does attack, then we move forward with your plan to collapse the cave on it. Agreed?”

I don’t know that I agree with that at all. I’m certain that this dragon is just like me—I can feel it in my core. Another lost soul slotted into an unfamiliar body.

A memory comes to me abruptly. Foggy, more like a dream than reality. After I’d died, I was in a dark place, surrounded by an acrid hate that was eating away at me like acid. But there were other people there too—other minds floating nearby, like bubbles in a sea.

How many of us were there?

Had all of them ended up in similar situations as Ollie and I?

I step forward, leaning into the hole as far as I dare. I spread my wings to either side, still in the passageway, acting as bracers to keep me from falling into the cavern. The dragon roars and thrashes, shooting blasts of ice randomly into the walls. He certainly looks like a wild beast from here.

But looks can be deceiving.

“Hello!” I call down into the cave.

The dragon jumps, whipping his head left and right as my voice bounces around the chamber.

“Up here!” I call again, waving an arm. “I want to help you!”

The dragon—Ollie, apparently—looks up.

“Hello! I—”

The dragon pounces forward, rearing up on his hind legs and slamming his front claws into the wall. The entire chamber shakes, stalactites of ice and crystal breaking away and crashing to the floor. The shock knocks me from my feet, and Mirzayael grabs my arm, starting to drag me back.

“No!” I cry. “No, not yet! He understands me!”

At least, I hope so. I shake myself from her grip and crawl back over to the opening.

The dragon’s head is right beneath me. My heart flutters as he looks up at me, tongue flicking between his teeth. Each canine is as long and sharp as a sword, and I’m keenly aware of how easily he could snap me up before I’d even have a chance to react. Instead, however, he tips his head to the side, regarding me.

I take a steadying breath and try to force my pulse to slow. “You can understand me, right?” I say.

The dragon growls, and his head dips. Was that a nod, or coincidence? I need more data.

“Okay, try this,” I say. “If you can understand me, lift your left hand.”

The dragon shifts, his claws digging into the ice along the wall and carving deep grooves into the surface. Then, he lifts his left claw.

Relief and joy flood through me, and I let out a nervous, happy laugh.

Nek whistles.

Mirzayael sucks in an awed breath. “It’s true, then.”

“Good job, Ollie,” I say. “Now, I’m going to come down there, okay?”

“What?” Nek cries.

“Absolutely not,” Mirzayael snaps.

“It’s fine,” I assure them. “He understands me.”

“That doesn’t mean he won’t hurt you,” Mirzayael says. “Even if just by accident! That beast—person—is huge. One misplaced step or swipe of his tail could be enough to end you.”

I know she’s right. The dragon is enormous, unthinkably powerful. But if this person is like me, if he’s really someone else from Earth, I have to do whatever I can to help him. And for that, I need to be able to speak to him.

“Help lower me down,” I say to Mirzayael. “I’ll need a bit of silk to reach Ollie.” I turn back to the dragon. “And can you reach an arm up here or something? I’ll need help climbing down.”

The dragon huffs out a breath of cold air, sending snowflakes and flecks of ice swirling through the air. He stretches an arm up and grabs a clawful of ice, digging his talons into the material as easily as taking a handful of sand. It’s still a dozen feet below me, but Mirzayael should be able to help me close that gap. I look back at her.

The arachnoid is glaring at me as if her look could summon daggers. Finally, she grumbles, turning to retrieve her pack. “Fine. But I’m tying this to you, and if anything goes wrong, I’m pulling you back up.”

“Works for me,” I say. She begins unwinding the rope as I turn back to Ollie. “Just a little bit longer!” I call. The dragon’s tail swishes back and forth impatiently.

Once Mirzayael has secured the rope around my torso—and under my arms and around my shoulders in a very thorough harness—I step cautiously to the edge. I wonder if I should have some harpy sense that doesn’t make me afraid of heights. I glance down, and my stomach flips, nerves tickling like static in my fingertips. Maybe only the wind-affinity harpies get that.

“Okay,” I tell Mirzayael as I sit on the edge, slowly easing my legs over. “My life’s in your hands.”

She snorts. “It has been since you set foot in my caves, Outsider.”

The rope goes taut, and with a flutter of terror, I lower myself over the edge.

I try to hold onto the ledge as my feet scrape down the side of the ice, toward the dragon’s massive paw beneath me. My wings flare to either side like a tightrope-walker’s balancing pole, and now more than ever I desperately wish they were there for more than just aesthetics. Beneath me, the dragon huffs, and a puff of cold air blasts up toward me. My hand slips from the icy ledge, and I plunge for a terrifying fraction of a second before Mirzayael’s silk catches me.

At the same time, the dragon startles, leaping up toward me. His nose bumps against my back and I let out a yelp, scrabbling for purchase. As the dragon comes down again, one of his teeth hooks on my line. The silk goes taut—then it snaps. Then, I’m falling.

I pinwheel head over heels, terror and vertigo clutching my gut. Someone from above shouts after me, their voice saturated with fear, but I don’t have any time to register who it was or what they said as I aimlessly flail and make a futile attempt to flap my wings, the ground racing toward me.