Lyle’s hand grasped the torch on the wall and pulled it from its sconce. It was a hefty length of wood, and the fire burned on ropes wrapped around the top. They must have been soaked in oil. He would have to hope it didn’t go out if he hit something with it, or there were more further in. Being weaponless or trapped in the darkness—neither was preferable, but Lyle could only deal with one problem at a time.

Decided, he set off down the tunnel. One foot slid carefully in front of the other, his moves slow and as quiet as he could manage. The width and height of the tunnel modulated as he progressed, at times constricting enough that he was forced to duck or turn sideways, and at other times becoming wide and tall enough to drive a semi through. There were no other torches on the walls.

Could that be a good thing? he hoped cautiously. Maybe they’re blind, or the light from my torch will blind them. The alternative—that the monsters within had extraordinary extra-visual senses—wasn’t a thought he wanted to linger on, but he slowed even further as it occurred to him.

Every breath he took sounded like a shout to him in this silent place, and every footstep an earthquake. Trying to quiet his movements only went so far, but somehow nothing attacked him. An hour filled with horrifying anticipation passed as he crept forward at a glacial pace, and still Lyle encountered no monsters.

The tunnel came to an end into an enormous open space that yawned upwards and to either side. The darkness swallowed the light of the flames, leaving Lyle feeling like he was on an island in the middle of the ocean, with no land in sight.

He hefted the torch in the air leaning forwards and focusing as hard as he could. He moved the torch behind his head so it wouldn’t blind him, and squinted. Was that another rock wall? Perhaps the space wasn’t as large as it had originally seemed. It was impossible to tell, given the darkness.

A scraping and cracking, like a mountain splitting open, suddenly echoed through the cave. Lyle ducked back into the tunnel instantly, his eyes flying wide.

What the hell was that? He cursed himself for waving the light around. He’d probably just made himself a target for anything hidden in the shadows.

Then there was a voice. It was gravelly and deeper than he thought humanly possible, but it rattled his bones and shook the tunnel around him when it spoke. “You have arrived.”

Lyle immediately hurled the torch as far as he could down the tunnel, then thrust himself into a crevice on the wall and forced himself to stay as still as possible. A couple of soft thunks drifted towards him as the burning wood bounced off the stone, but then it was silent save for his hammering heart. Only the barest hint of light drifted from where he’d thrown the torch, indicating that it was still aflame and available to him should he need it. Not that it would be much use against whatever had spoken. Its voice alone sent shudders through the earth around him.

He put a hand on his mouth, and breathed as slowly as he could through his nose, but his body betrayed him. To his ears, the air rushing into his lungs was nearly as loud as the voice, and his heart was a pounding drum.

“Come,” the voice said, and small showers of dust rained from the ceiling over Lyle. “You are not here to die, and there is no use in hiding. Come into the open.”

Lyle remained frozen.

The voice sighed, and there was another sound of mountainous movement. Lyle turned his head, ever so slowly, to find a single golden eye filling the entirety of the tunnel exit.

He almost screamed, but his breath caught in his throat. The iris was glowing dimly, and in the center sat a vertical slit for a pupil, like that of a cat. It stared directly at him, but whatever monster it belonged to made no move to attack.

“There is no use in hiding,” the voice said again. “Come, now. I have a gift for you. What did Camille say you were looking for? Power and purpose. Both things you will have to seize for yourself, but I will set you on your path.”

The eye pulled away from the entrance to the tunnel, and a restrained light now spilled in from the grand space beyond. Not sunlight, but more flickering flames.

Lyle swallowed, then slowly extracted himself from the crevice. There was no chance that he—a regular human—could defeat a thing like that. The chance of him disabling the source of the Tear and escaping had slimmed to nothing. But, if the creature in the space beyond was telling the truth, then perhaps another opportunity for survival had found him. Worst case scenario, at least his death would be quick.

He glanced back down the tunnel, intending to retrieve his torch before setting foot outside. It wasn’t much, but he thought holding something might make him feel marginally more confident, if only so he could grip it and keep his fingers from shaking.

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But there was no tunnel. He did a double take. There had been no sound, no rush of air, nothing. It was simply gone. The light now spilling from the cavern illuminated a wall mere feet away from him, blocking off the direction he’d come from. Lyle swallowed again. The behemoth’s mercy was truly the only chance he had now.

Lyle took hesitant steps out and into the light. More torches, burning brightly, lined the edge of the space, which could have housed a skyscraper with room to spare. Lyle wasn’t sure if the darkness or seeing the true size of the cavern was more terrifying.

What captured his attention, though, was not the torches, nor the size of the cave. In the center, what he had mistaken for another wall was a dragon.

Lyle gaped. It dominated the space, appearing to stretch for a thousand feet. He realized suddenly that what had filled the entrance to the cave was only part of its eye—there had been more to it that the walls blocked from his vision. Its scales were the size of small cars, and reflected the orange light of the flames. It was difficult to tell their actual color, but they were perhaps a light blue-green.

The dragon itself had wings larger than any sail that had ever existed folded against its back. Its head was held aloft far above him, where it observed him imperiously. Sharp angles defined its reptilian face, and fangs that could have filled the entire tunnel protruded from the dragon’s upper jaw.

Was it a monster? Some kind of mythic god? Whatever it was, if it wanted to kill him, there had never been any hope of escape.

Lyle actually relaxed a bit when he realized that. There was nothing he could do—his survival was out of his hands. He remained terrified and awed by the creature before him, but the nervousness about whether he would be able to escape evaporated, because it was no longer up to him.

“Who—” Lyle cut off as his voice cracked and cleared his throat. “Who are you?”

The dragon’s head lowered slowly towards him. Its jaw didn’t move, but he heard its voice all the same. “I am Tiamat,” it said simply.

Tiamat? Lyle wondered. Isn’t that some kind of ancient dragon goddess? I suppose the dragon part checks out.

“Why am I alive?” he asked then.

The dragon let out a rumble that he realized after a moment was soft laughter. It—or she, he supposed—tilted her head to the side as she regarded him. “You are not here to die, child. You are here to be reborn.”

“I don’t understand. What—” Lyle cut off, not wanting to ask what she was in case she became offended. Was she a real goddess, or some kind of simulacrum created by whatever the source of the Tear was? A question like that might offend a real goddess, or incite a simulacrum to kill him. Neither was a preferable outcome, so he might as well just not ask the question.

Some of his nervousness returned. He could definitely still get himself killed with careless words, even if that wasn’t the reason for his presence here.

“Speak,” Tiamat rumbled.

“What do I need to do?” Lyle said, his words measured and slow. There was no fighting, so playing along would be his only chance.

The dragon appeared to raise an eyebrow, which looked very strange on its scaled face. “You have no other questions than that? I’m surprised. I heard you were more inquisitive.”

“What choice do I have?” Lyle asked, wondering briefly at how she’d heard that. “It’s not like I can escape from here.”

“You may decline if you like,” Tiamat said. “You will be returned to your world no worse for wear. I do not believe you will decline my offer, though.”

“Your offer?”

“Yes. You have been deprived of a gift that I seek to restore to you. Or, if not restore, then replace for you. You humans call your dream-touched ‘Embers,’ do you not? It has been some time since I have been to the mortal world, though my acolyte has occasionally brought me news.”

Dream-touched? Acolyte?

“Yes… So, is this because I wasn’t Kindled?”

“Kindled,” she repeated. “Such an odd way of putting it. Yes, it is because you were not Kindled. You should have received power years ago at the behest of your brother, or today barring that, but my people interfered. So now I am interfering again.”

A clawed leg lifted from the ground and reached ponderously towards him, the air it displaced creating eddies of displaced wind. Lyle flinched, stumbling backwards, and Tiamat paused.

“Do you not want this gift?” she asked, sounding confused.

Lyle’s eyes went from the dragon’s claws back to her head. “Is it a gift?” he asked. “What is the cost? Why are you doing this?”

“Impertinence.” The dragon let out a sound halfway between a growl and a hiss, and Lyle feared he had pushed too far. Then she relaxed, her foot returning to the ground and her head swinging low. Suddenly he didn’t have to crane his neck just to look at her. She continued, her voice calmer now. “But a fair question. There is no cost to this gift. At least, not immediately. There will be hell to pay if the others find you, though, and your hardships will be as difficult as they are plentiful. I also wouldn’t mind if you chose of your own volition to join my congregation.”

“Then… why are you giving it to me?” Lyle asked again, ignoring his confusion at the rest of her words.

“Because, Lyle Margrave, your people need all the help they can get, and mine are too afraid to take the necessary risks.”

She turned her head sideways, so he stared directly into one gargantuan orb. His reflection stared back at him.

“There is a war coming—a war for survival.”