“Can I ask somethin’?” Blaise questioned, leaning on the railing beside Theron. Theron had paid for a ship to take them to the archipelago just off the coast of Oorlog, where the Moordenaar were believed to live.

“I’ll give ya an answer if I got one for ya,” Theron told him.

“How come Oorlog ain’t affected by nothin’ that’s been goin’ on? I mean, ain’t they aware o' the war between Cadmus and Draconia?”

“Well…” Theron scratched the side of his head, a thoughtful look on his face. “It’s difficult to say, ya know? It ain’t that they don’t know what’s goin’ on, they just don’t care, sorta. And I don’t mean they don’t care ‘bout the war, they just don’t care ‘bout anyone’s race. They ain’t gonna discriminate against Dragons, and they definitely ain’t gonna cooperate with someone like Agni.”

“Why not?”

“Yer an Oorlogan too, kid,” he said with a laugh. “Ya know we’re all too stubborn for that shit.”

Blaise didn’t laugh, though, and Theron just rolled his eyes.

“Lighten up, kid. Oorlog’s a port town. People been comin’ in and outta this kingdom long as there’s been a kingdom here, and probably long before that. Draconians used to be everywhere too, not just Draconia.

“Dragons can’t breed with Humans, and dependin’ whatever non-Humans they’re breedin’ with, ya get different kinds o’ Dragons. Water ones like Nixie, fire ones like me and Zane… ya can get anything really. Faeries, Werewolves, Dwarfs… even Vampires. If it ain’t Human, it can breed a Dragon. That’s why there’s Dragons everywhere. Every race has come through Oorlog at one point or another, and that’s why they don’t care. If Oorlog started discriminatin’, the whole kingdom would crumble.”

Blaise was quiet, staring out at the distant islands. His heard pounded with anxiety. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to face his father, but he knew he needed to end things, once and for all.

Theron seemed to notice, and he sighed before placing a strong hand on his shoulder. For once, Blaise didn’t pull away or squirm from being touched. He was finally getting used to affection from his friends.

“Whatever happens,” Theron told him, “I’m gonna be right there with ya, ‘kay? I ain't gonna let no Moordenaar take you out. Yer gonna get back to Draconia to see yer friends again, hear me?”

“Thanks,” Blaise said, letting out a long sigh. He hoped that what Theron said was true.

“Plus, we got all this good stuff from that old shopkeeper.” Theron nudged the large sack with his foot. “He didn’t want the guards to raid his shop and put him outta business, so I got all this old stuff that people swiped from Draconia.”

“How much did that cost ya?” Blaise asked, eyeing the sword that was wrapped up in thick cloth. The handle was elaborately decorated with silver and rubies. Most of the items Theron had gotten were once Zane’s—someone must have raided his bedroom after the Dragons abandoned the castle.

“Don’t worry ‘bout the money, kid. Just be glad we got ya somethin’ useful, and we can return the rest o’ this stuff to Draconia where it belongs.”

It only took about an hour to get from Oorlog to the Archipelago, and the ship immediately set off as soon as Theron and Blaise were off. The captain had said that it was a dangerous place, and warned them not to mess with the Moordenaar. As if Blaise didn’t already know about that.

The main island was overgrown with jungle, and there was barely a path to follow. They had to travel deep into the overgrowth before finding even a hint that anyone lived there. There were a few huts here and there, but none of the residents gave Theron or Blaise any mind, going about their daily routines.

Deep in the center of the island, there was a large stone structure with only one way in. It was all overgrown with vines and flowers, but there were lit torches outside, and an ominous aura emanated from deep within the darkness. Blaise swallowed hard, his knees feeling a bit unsteady.

“Ready?” Theron asked, handing Zane’s sword over to him, and Blaise let out a nervous laugh.

“Not really,” he said quietly, sweat running down the side of his face. “If anything happens to me, I want ya to get outta here and just go home, ‘kay?”

“Come on, kid, don’t go talkin’ like that.”

Before Blaise could say anything else, Theron nudged him forward, heading into the dark entrance.

Once they were inside, their eyes adjusted quickly. There were corridors going in many directions, all lit by hundreds of candles that were grouped in huge sections along the walls, which were decorated with various sigils.

Men in black robes, their faces hidden by their hoods, passed them by, but didn’t acknowledge them. Even as Theron and Blaise ventured deeper into the building, no one seemed to care that they weren’t Moordenaar.

All of the halls, while also branching off into more corridors, eventually led to one main room. It was large and open, like the throne room of a castle, and lit by more candles than Blaise and Theron had ever seen in one place before.

There were many Moordenaar there, talking quietly in groups or meditating alone. There were a few throne-like chairs elevated at the front of the room, and the three men who sat there didn’t hide their faces with their hoods. They wore elaborate circlets on their heads as if they believed themselves to be royalty, and looked down arrogantly on Theron and Blaise as they approached.

“It’s rare that we have outside visitors,” one of the men said. “Very few are fearless enough to enter this place.”

“We’re lookin’ for someone that’s hidin’ out here,” Theron said, and the men exchanged curious looks with each other.

“Hiding out here?” one of the others asked. They all looked very similar… Old men with the same circlet adorning their head. It was creepy.

“I’m lookin’ for my Da,” Blaise said, stepping forward. He sounded more confident than he looked, trying to will his legs and voice to stop shaking. “He killed my mum and I ain’t gonna let him get away with it.”

“All Moordenaar must sever their ties with the outside world as a rite of passage,” the third man said, standing up slowly. “If the man you seek is your father, then you won’t find him in this building. If he’s seeking initiation, he will live out in the forest. Only those who succeed are permitted to live within these walls, and there’s only one member who has failed to do so in the last two decades.”

He snapped his fingers, and a few Moordenaar approached him quickly.

“Fetch the outcast,” he demanded. “Bring him here and tell him to arm himself properly.”

The Moordenaar left without a word, and Blaise and Theron exchanged a nervous look as the man sat back down in his throne-like chair.

“We will allow you to engage in combat with your father, if that is what you seek. If he kills you, he will be a full-fledged Moordenaar and his initiation will finally be accepted. If you kill him, well… then he’ll be dead. That is, assuming this is the man you’ve been searching for.”

“That’s the plan,” Blaise said, resting his hand on the handle of Zane’s sword.

“You,” the man said, pointing at Theron. “What is your business here? Do you intend to assist this young man in his fight against his father?”

“You bet I am,” Theron told him with a grin, cracking his knuckles. “If he really wants to be a Moordenaar, he shouldn’t have a problem with two against one.”

“Indeed.”

The man was brought in by the others in robes, and he was dressed similarly to the way he was when Blaise had last seen him, when he’d fought him in the unconscious realm of his mind. The only difference was that he wasn’t wearing a mask.

He looked like Blaise, except his hair and eyes were a different color. He didn’t look as sinister as he did with his mask on, but Blaise knew all too well what he was capable of. He immediately drew Zane’s sword, taking a fighting stance as he glared up at his father.

"This is your last chance, Orion,” the head Moordenaar said. “Either kill the boy or be killed. You’ve had more than enough time to finish this.”

Orion moved down the steps confidently, and Blaise backed up. Theron could see his hands shaking as he tightened his grip on Zane’s sword.

“Calm down,” Theron said in a hushed tone so only Blaise could hear him. “Remember that you ain’t alone in this fight.”

We’re both here to help you. With my skills and your own, along with Theron, we can end this once and for all.

“Ready to finish this?” Blaise asked, raising the sword.

“I think so,” Orion said, drawing his own sword. “I thought I would have to continue tormenting you in the unconscious realm, but you came right to me. How fortunate.”

“I’m gonna kill you and move on with my life. Just ‘cause you kill Ma don’t mean you can kill me.”

“Are you still on about that?” Orion sighed and rolled his eyes. “I never loved her. The only reason I stayed with her was because we had you, and once I became a Moordenaar, I had the means to be rid of you both.”

“Shut up,” Blaise said through clenched teeth. “I don’t care if you loved her. I loved her, and you killed her. That’s reason enough for me to rip yer throat out.”

Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

“I’d like to see you try!”

The two of them went at each other relentlessly, neither of them really able to get a good blow in on the other. Blaise was younger and less experienced, though, and he got tired so easily since he’d been fused with the Dragon Prince. He was losing stamina quickly, and Orion showed no signs of tiring any time soon.

Orion swung his sword so hard that even though Blaise blocked it, he was thrown back onto the ground. Zane’s sword clattered on the floor a few feet from him, and Blaise gasped in pain, the wind knocked out of him.

He tried to go at Blaise again, but Theron got in the way, blocking a swing of his sword with the metal bracer on his forearm.

“Nice try,” Theron said, baring his fangs at the man, “but I ain’t gonna let you kill him.”

“A Dragon?” Orion laughed. “How interesting of a life you’ve been living, son.”

“I ain’t your son,” Blaise said, getting up quickly and rushing to retrieve Zane’s sword.

Orion used his free hand to draw his weapon with the chain on it, and Blaise had to pull his hand back when he tried to grab Zane’s sword, narrowly avoiding being cut with the scythe on the end.

“Two against one might seem good to you,” Orion said. He kneed Theron in the stomach and then brought his elbow down between the back of his shoulders, knocking Theron to the floor. “But I’m not some thug off the street.”

Theron tried to get up, and he stomped on his back, pinning him face down on the floor. He raised his sword, pointed down at the back of Theron’s neck, and Blaise’s heart started pounding wildly, feeling sick to his stomach.

“Get off o’ me!”

“Stop!” Blaise cried as reached out to them, and he unintentionally released a barrage of fire from his hand. It threw Orion back, away from Theron, who quickly moved away, back to where Blaise was.

Blaise hissed in pain, holding his hand close to his body. The skin on his palm was blistered and burned from using Zane’s power.

You have to stay calm. I can’t control the flames if you can’t keep your emotions in check.

“You all right?” Theron quickly wrapped Blaise’s hand with gauze he kept in a small pack on his belt. “Thanks for that. He caught me off-guard. I thought I was a goner.”

“Pay attention!”

Orion rushed in, using both weapons at once to separate Theron and Blaise. He focused mostly on Theron, and Blaise was frozen with fear as he watched them going at each other. Why was he going after him instead?

Get yourself together before you get yourself killed. Help him!

Theron and Orion were both making a bloody mess of each other. Orion was cutting him up with his weapons, and Theron was lashing out with his claws, partially transformed. Theron didn’t even seem bothered by the chain, despite being covered in bruises from being struck and grabbed by it. He had a wild look in his eyes, and Blaise wanted to rush in to help him, but he couldn’t will his legs to do what he wanted.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe. His entire body was trembling, making it difficult to keep a grip on Zane’s sword. He wished he had never come to Oorlog to find Orion. He thought he could fight him, but all that will had gone out the window as soon as the fight started. If someone like Theron couldn’t beat Orion, what hope did Blaise have?

“Get your filthy fuckin’ hands off o’ me!”

Theron’s voice snapped Blaise out of his daze. Orion had him by the hair, his sword dangerously close to Theron’s chest. Theron had a firm grip on both of Orion’s wrists, struggling to prevent his hair from being pulled or his chest sliced open.

“Let him go,” Blaise demanded, raising Zane’s sword in his shaky hands. “He ain’t got nothin’ to do with this.”

“He’s in my way,” Orion said, annoyance in his voice as he glared at Blaise. “Drop that sword and die like a good boy, and I’ll let him go.

“Forget it!” Theron struggled to break free, but Orion wouldn’t budge. “He ain’t stupid enough to—”

Theron’s eyes went wide as Blaise threw the sword down at Orion’s feet without hesitation.

What are you doing? He’s going to kill you!

“Let him go,” Blaise said, holding up his empty hands. He gritted his teeth and did his best to block out Zane’s protests. No one else was going to die for him.

Orion released Theron and threw him to the ground, turning his focus on Blaise.

“How long has it been, Blaise? Eighteen years? Twenty? I never imagined that you would survive the fire, but here we are.” He lifted his sword without a hint of remorse. “The last living connection I have to this world… Once you’re gone, I’ll finally ascend to my rightful place with the Moordenaar.”

“Yer outta yer mind,” Blaise said through his clenched teeth. With Theron’s life on the line, what could he do but let Orion get what he wanted?

“This ends now!”

Orion grabbed Blaise painfully by the shoulder and threw him to the floor. He pinned him down under his boot, and swung his sword down at Blaise’s neck.

Blaise closed his eyes, his heart pounding as angry tears filled his eyes. He should have just stayed in Anzino. He had wanted so badly to end things with Orion, but he wasn’t strong enough, and now he was going to die. What would happen to Theron after? Would Orion really let him go?

“Get away from him!”

There was a loud crash in front of Blaise that shook the floor and knocked Orion off his feet. Theron, in his Dragon form, curled protectively around Blaise and let out a blood-curdling shriek, baring his razor-sharp teeth at Orion.

Orion tried to get up to retrieve the weapons he dropped, but Theron pinned him down under his large talons. He struggled to break free, but he couldn’t get out from Theron’s heavy foot.

Blaise took a few deep breaths and got to his feet, picking up Zane’s sword. He went to where Orion lay on the floor, struggling to get out of the Dragon’s grasp.

He raised the sword over his father’s head, and Orion just lay there, glaring at him.

Could he really finish things? Blaise wasn’t sure. He stood there, frozen, staring down at his father. He was a bloody, dirty mess, and there was no remorse in his eyes. Even so, Blaise didn’t know if he was capable of taking a life.

Blaise sighed and lowered the sword, his shoulders dropping in defeat.

“Let him go, Theron,” he said quietly.

What are you saying? If you don’t end things, he’s going to keep trying to kill you, even if you make it out of here alive. He’ll invade your mind again.

Theron tilted his head curiously, but took his foot off of Orion, who sat up on his knees, rubbing his shoulder.

“You’re fuckin’ worthless,” Blaise said, the hatred clear in his voice. “Yer nothin’ but a pathetic excuse of a man, and I ain’t ever gonna be like you.”

“Good,” Orion said with a smug grin. “That makes things much easier for me.”

He drew a hidden knife and lunged at Blaise, who instinctively put up Zane’s sword to protect him, running Orion through the stomach with the blade.

Blaise’s eyes were wide with horror as blood poured from his father’s mouth. It didn’t stop him though, and Orion moved in closer anyway. Blaise let go of the sword and fell back on the floor to avoid the knife, and he just stared up at Orion, his heard pounding frantically.

Orion tried to pull the blade free, but didn’t seem to have the strength anymore. He laughed softly as he fell to his knees, vomiting blood.

“Well done,” he said quietly, still gripping the blade. “Do you have what it takes to finish me off, though?”

Blaise was quiet, just staring, eyes wide and mouth gaping. He was terrified of Orion, and what frightened him even more was how calm he was, despite being on the brink of death.

Orion moved towards him, and Blaise backed afraid of what he might do. He couldn’t finish him off—he hadn’t even been able to kill him in the first place.

“He don’t gotta be strong enough for that, ‘cause I am.”

Theron grabbed Orion by the hair and slit his throat with his own dagger, then let the man drop to the floor as he choked and bled out.

Blaise was pale and sweaty, just staring at Orion. Eventually he stopped moving, no longer breathing, and Theron took back Zane’s sword.

“You all right?” Theron asked.

Blaise couldn’t answer him. He turned away and vomited, his whole body trembling while he sobbed loudly. He was relieved that he was finally free of his father, but he hadn’t expected it to be so horrible.

Theron helped him off the floor, despite being badly injured himself, covered in cuts and bruises, bloody and sweaty.

“Let’s get the hell outta here.”

The Moordenaar stood in their way when they tried to leave, though, and Theron bared his fangs at them.

“Get outta the way,” he demanded. “We won—this ain’t your fight so don’t get involved.”

“We have no intention of stopping you,” the head Moordenaar said. “I actually wanted to thank you. Unfortunately, Orion has been a been of a problem for quite some time now. He’s been leeching off our resources with the hope of being accepted, and—”

“I dunno what ya want, and I don’t really care,” Theron interrupted. “Can’t ya see that the kid isn’t handlin’ this well? Just get outta the way. Ya got something to say, ya can send us a message to the inn back in Oorlog.”

Theron shoved past the men with Blaise, who had stopped crying, but he was silent. His face was wet with tears, and he kept his gaze lowered as they headed out of the Moordenaar’s headquarters and back to the port on the other end of the island.

Blaise was quiet the entire time. He seemed to be in some kind of daze, and he wouldn’t look at anyone or speak. When they returned to the local inn, he just sat on the edge of the bed, a distant look in his still-teary eyes.

Theron sat at the table, dabbing at his wounds with a damp towel. He hissed in pain, struggling to clean himself up.

“Damn bastard,” he muttered. “Really gave me a run for my money. I thought I was gonna get killed too.”

Blaise let out a long, shaky breath, then moved to the table, sitting beside Theron. He took the towel from him and went to work helping him attend to the wounds all over his body. Theron stayed quiet, watching him intently, but Blaise wouldn’t make eye contact with him.

“Are ya mad at me?” Theron asked quietly, and Blaise stopped, holding the towel against a cut on Theron’s shoulder, and gave him a curious look.

“What?”

“Are ya mad that I killed your Da?”

Blaise sighed and went back to wiping the blood off Theron’s arm.

“I ain’t mad,” he said softly, “I just… I guess I wasn’t ready as I thought I was. Sorry to drag you into it.”

“C’mon, kid. Ya did great. Ya handled it a lot better than I woulda if it was my Da.”

Blaise fell quiet, still holding the towel against a large gash on Theron’s arm, and he lowered his gaze. He looked confused and hurt.

“What’s wrong?” Theron asked.

Blaise suddenly burst into tears, covering his face with his hands. He was shaking, and sobbed loudly, and Theron’s eyes went wide at his outburst.

Blaise…

“I’m sorry,” he said through his sobbing. “I thought that gettin’ rid of Orion would make things better. I thought I’d be feelin’ better… but I ain’t.”

“Ya don’t gotta apologize, kid. Even if ya did hate him, he was still yer Da.”

“I couldn’t even do it. I was just gonna let him kill me. And then when you… I dunno… I just wasn’t ready, I guess.”

He cried until he had completely exhausted himself. Theron didn’t say anything, going back to cleaning and bandaging his wounds while Blaise had his head down on the table, his face wet with tears.

“C’mon,” Theron said, getting up. He hadn’t bandaged many of his wounds, but he’d cleaned them up and covered the worse ones. He placed a strong hand on Blaise’s shoulder. “Go to bed, get some rest. In the mornin’ we’re headin’ back to Draconia. Let’s leave this shit town behind, yeah?”

Blaise lay awake most of the night, just staring at the ceiling. Theron was in the other bed with his back to him, breathing quietly. Was he asleep?

“Theron?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I ask ya somethin’?”

Theron was quiet, but then he groaned and turned onto his back. He rubbed his face and sighed before finally turning his attention to Blaise.

“It’s late, kid. What’s on ya mind?”

“Why do you hate Oorlog?”

Theron seemed a bit surprised by the question, but then a dark look fell over his face.

“Ya saw the slums where that shop was that we went,” he explained. “I grew up down there. My parents sold me to some slumlord there. They had too many kids, and couldn’t afford all of us. He had a big piece o’ the Draíocht market back then, so he gave ‘em lots o’ money to take me.”

Theron sat up and took his shirt off. He was covered in scars. Some looked like cigars had been pressed into his skin, others looked like stab wounds and lashes. His back was covered in long thin scars, probably from a whip. He leaned forward and ran his fingers across the scar on his face.

“He was real violent with me, and he used to sell me off, lettin’ lowlifes use me and my body however they wanted. Got me addicted to Draíocht too. When I got older, it just kept gettin’ worse, and I was fed up with that shit. I slit his throat while he was sleepin’ and ran off to Draconia before anyone knew he was dead.”

“You were addicted to Draiocht too?” Blaise questioned, staring wide-eyed at his scarred body, and Theron nodded.

“I ain’t never stopped bein’ addicted, actually,” Theron told him. “I’m probably gonna be addicted the rest o’ my life ‘cause o’ him, but I got Ken to help me.”

Blaise fell quiet, thinking about how Theron and Soren were both addicted to Draíocht. The difference between the two of them was enormous, and Blaise wondered what had made that difference.

“Anyways,” Theron said, laying back down, “I left this place behind for good, and I don’t miss it. The sooner we’re outta here, the better.”