Though Argrave had said not long ago that he trusted his brother, now that his intentions were clear and they’d all agreed to help Orion on his search, he did consult two encyclopedias for answers. The first was his own head—not to toot his own horn, of course. He’d be tooting Erlebnis’, anyhow, considering the god had gathered the knowledge only to use it as a cudgel to unsuccessfully break his mind. The second encyclopedia was almost directly responsible for the first.

Its name was Raven.

“Do you know how many voyages have been attempted to the moon?” Raven asked Argrave as they walked side-by-side.

“Eighty-seven.” Argrave looked at the obsidian confines of Raven’s lab, wondering where the man was leading them.

“I’ll assume that’s not a guess. My point is the same—very many have voyaged seeking the stars, the sun, and the moon.” An eye and mouth appeared on Raven’s elbow, enabling him to emphasize his point without turning his head. “All of them failed. No one has been to the moon and back—not the gods of space, nor deities of any stripe. This so-called lunar dragon your brother insists exists is a statistical impossibility.”

“But not a physical one,” Argrave pointed out.

Raven stopped in his tracks, turning his body toward Argrave. “So you’ve told me. The notion of people, without magic, achieving such a thing is… fanciful. It was hard enough to get them collaborate to fight Gerechtigkeit—building a spacecraft capable of not only making it to the moon, but returning…”

“I’m no rocket scientist. I can understand that might surprise you.” Argrave held his hands out to kill the imaginary doubt. “But all of the problems that exist—lack of air, lack of protection, and I’m sure a thousand others I’m forgetting… they can be remedied. Flight trajectories can be calculated with math, and controlled with precise application of force. It takes a lot of data, a lot of time, and a lot of variables to discover and consider. But… from my meager understanding of the world, there’s no reason why it’s impossible. Doubly so when magic does exist.”

“I know.” Raven waved his hand, and an obsidian doorway parted. “By all means, it should be possible. Yet it never has been.”

Argrave narrowed his eyes. “I wasn’t expecting you to agree so readily.”

“I guarantee you—if it were possible, a god would have done it. Unless, of course…” Raven raised a finger up. “There’s a variable you’re ignoring. A variable that wouldn’t have existed in your world. That’s why I’ve asked you here today.” He entered into the doorway he’d made.

“I figured you wanted to cut me open, just like old times.” Argrave smiled and followed after him.

“That’s part of it.” Raven descended down rapidly-forming obsidian stairs, and they finally came into a wide-open room.

There, Argrave laid his eyes on a familiar figure. Hause, goddess of potential, stood in a dignified posture with her grandiose blonde hair tied with pink ribbons. She turned away from the table she stood in front of to greet their arrival. The room that she was in seemed to be a storage area of Raven’s. There were shelves and drawers with several different labels, some of which had been left out—herbs, corpses of unusual animals, and all manner of things Raven should practically be expected to have.

Raven walked in, gesturing at the goddess that had made him the way he was. “I brought Hause here today to confirm what I have been telling you—there remains no latent potential, no untapped bloodline within you.”

Hause studied Argrave. Whenever she looked upon him, Argrave thought that he always saw a shudder from her, but perhaps it was his imagination. “He’s right in all except bringing me—I came of my own accord, to offer assistance where I believed it prudent.” She gave Raven a curt nod. “But I do agree with Raven’s assessment. Within you, Argrave—or within your kin, be that Elenore or Orion—there remains no force that I can align closely with the Gilderwatcher’s ability.”

Argrave scrunched his brows, feeling an uneasy headache mounting. “Are you trying to dissuade me from helping Orion?”

“Just because there remains nothing latent within you and yours, Argrave, doesn’t mean that Orion is necessarily wrong.” Raven stood behind Hause in quiet observance, his two long arms behind his back.

“Doesn’t it?” Argrave walked closer. “’No latent power in our blood’ and ‘unlocking the power of our bloodline’ are mutually exclusive ideas.”

Raven turned away and walked to a corner in the room. “Have you read the fables and tales Orion studied?”

Argrave nodded. “Yeah, last night. They’re pretty ubiquitous across all cultures, and that’s suspicious. Ugly lady with red hair comes down, but she’s actually a dragon in disguise. Only guy who isn’t an ass to her, she takes to the moon. They do some freaky dragon magic up there, and next year, the man returns with a red-haired child.”

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“And if these red-haired children sleep under the moonlight, they gain the powers of their bloodline. Specifically, they gain the power to shapeshift their flesh to resemble their mother.” Raven reached his hand into an obsidian shelf, seemingly searching for something. “It’s not unusual for cultures to develop similar myths. Mortals live life in the same nature, no matter how many thousands of miles away from each other they might be. It’s no wonder tribal cultures across the continents all speak of gods in the sky to explain lightning, or demons to explain plague. They’d fabricate anything before admitting they simply don’t know. But I agree with your brother—the tale is far too consistent, and common, to be mere coincidence.”

“Okay.” Argrave walked closer, coming to stand beside Hause. “What’s the point of all this?”

“Here.” Raven yanked hard on a shelf in the wall, and pulled free a body with vibrant red hair. “Something I picked up a great many cycles ago.” He laid down an immaculately preserved corpse, and Argrave looked away. “Look at it. Don’t act all prudish. How many corpses have you made?”

Argrave turned his gaze back to the body. It looked like… well, a corpse. A red-haired young woman, dead, with that blank-eyed gaze that so many bodies had. From the skin alone, he could tell there was no life left in her. The dead had no presence, no existence. It still uneased Argrave, no matter how many he’d seen.

“Given what you mentioned, this is one of those descendants?” Hause crossed her arms as she looked upon the body.

Raven rather grimly moved the body’s head, opening eyes and shining light down the nostrils and ears. “I could show you the hallmarks showing her lineage, but you two are far too stupid for me to do it without wasting hours of time. Suffice it to say, trust my word when I say she’s only partly human.” An eye grew on the back of the hand Raven used to manipulate the corpse, locking gazes with Argrave. “And like you, Argrave, there is nothing within her to suggest there is some bountiful latent power. Moonlight unlocks it. It still does, long after death.”

Argrave smiled. “So you have made a study of this.”

“No, I made a note of it.” Raven swiped his hand, and a hole opened into the obsidian floor. He pushed the body in, then swiped again to close it, disposing of the body rather ungracefully. “There was no studying to be done. I found her like this, and it wasn’t until today I could make the connection.”

“Really?” Argrave narrowed his eyes. “You found her like this?”

“She tripped and dashed her head upon the rocks of a creek. One of my roaming chimeras found her and returned her.” He shook his head. “Bad luck on her part. Many die ingloriously. I suspect you will, as well.”

Argrave felt minorly offended as he asked, “What does that mean?”

“It’s a compliment.” Raven looked at Hause. “Now… are you sure on what you said?”

Hause fiddled with the pink sleeves of her elaborate dress. Argrave wondered how she got her hands on such things in Blackgard. He supposed her followers had their ways.

“Yes, I am.” Hause closed her eyes. “I’ll convey it.”

“Wonderful.” Raven walked away again, reaching into another storage cabinet. Argrave was pleased when he retrieved an obsidian box. Raven set it down, parting it, and Argrave felt discomforted when something in the shape of a body revealed itself. When it seemed to be nothing more than a set of silver armor, he was relieved again.

“This is the silver knight Orion killed.” Raven looked at Argrave squarely, and that discomfort returned redoubled. “This is the corpse of that which killed tens of thousands in a matter of minutes. It could’ve killed me. According to Orion, it’s the sum total of Lindon’s being, compressed into a fighting force. I have no reason to disagree with that conclusion. The body beneath the armor is somewhat human, though possessed of scales rather similar in structure to a Gilderwatcher’s.”

“Good lord, Raven. How many skeletons are in that closet of yours?” Argrave asked incredulously, rubbing his hands together before he looked at Hause. “Well? What were you supposed to convey?”

“There is unimaginable latent potential in this body.” Hause hugged herself as she stared upon it, glimpsing into a reality that Argrave had no conception of. “It is of the same caliber that I felt in…” she looked up at Raven, and Argrave had a tacit understanding.

“But what’s this potential’s nature?” He pressed.

Hause looked at him. “There are many. Were I to sum the various notions, I would describe it as the foundation. While not a building itself, it can serve as that which holds something far larger than itself.”

“As ever, she’s appropriately vague.” Raven tapped his finger against the chest plate of the dead silver knight. “However, if this corpse is to be a foundation for anything… I suspect it’s going to be the key to this journey to unlock your bloodline. Nothing is more fitting. I would suggest tearing out your heart again, alchemizing it inside my body, and reimplanting it…”

“I hope there’s a ‘but,’” Argrave quickly said.

“…but we can’t afford to act hastily.” Raven held his hand out. “Find these lunar dragons, or their descendants. And keep this in mind—there is a variable that we are not considering. There is a power at work we don’t yet understand. There’s no reason the moon, or indeed the space beyond this world, should be off-limits—yet it is.” He gestured. “I suggest you employ Yinther. As the god of curiosity, space has fascinated him above all. He’s sponsored several voyages to the beyond, all of which failed.”

“It’s a start. Excellent.” Argrave tapped the container holding the silver knight. “One last thing—get Artur involved. If there’s a foundation, building is involved. And if it’s building or crafting, I trust no one more than Artur.”

He turned to leave with those words behind, but the area he’d intended to walk confidently out of no longer existed—it had been closed away, leaving behind only an obsidian wall. Inside here, he could only leave if Raven let him. Unless he intended to blast his way out, or something of the sort.

“I’ll escort you out,” Raven said. Argrave couldn’t be totally sure his voice wasn’t smug.