Zephariel’Realmara’Etheriassa’Flemmel'Bobbisylth'Chronoquintessara'Falkora'Stellarae'Quantumwhiskeria'Diavala'Jormungandria hated to rely on others. All StarManes were something of loners, outside of their chosen bond-mates and breeding partners, but Bobbi in particular had never found many of her kin to be worth spending time with. What did any of her elders have to tell her that she hadn’t gained from being born? One of the inherent bonuses of genetic memories was the ability to immediately strike it out on your own, without reliance on parents or clan, especially when you were a dragon-cat.

Bobbi’s clutchmates had subscribed to the StarMane arrogance and largely preferred their true forms, or feline or draconic forms at the least, while Bobbi had always favored humanoid forms. Yet Bobbi had latched onto a memory from the great wanderer Quantumwhiskeria, in which a demi-god challenged her to a cook off. Being a noble, elegant dragon-cat, Quantumwhiskeria cooked a boar with her firebreath and presented it. The Demigod, on the other hand, made dozens of elaborate dishes with his opposable thumbs and cultural knowledge. Quantumwhiskeria acknowledged the Demigod her superior, and they fell in love. Her elders ate the Demigod because he was food, and millennia later she left this universe in search of new foods to taste.

Bobbi’s sister, Zelariel, had taken a very different lesson from that memory than Bobbi did. Zelariel’s took away from the memory that you should not date or befriend demigods, as your elders would just eat them. Her brother Delat said the real lesson was opposable thumbs won’t save you from being eaten, you damned showoff. Bobbi liked to think the lesson was that her elders were blind idiots unwilling to allow something beautiful to be born. Quantumwhiskeria could have created a whole tradition of StarMane chefs, instead of just being a foot-note in the clan legacy as someone who wandered off to find a new reality.

“Your time has come, little one,” a voice that shook the cosmos drew Bobbi’s awareness towards her present circumstances. She stood on a sphere of platinum that floated before the greatest of all dragons, Bahamut, the Holy Lord and Dragon of Justice, Warden of Prosperity, the Father of Dragonkind. In a flash, Bahamut turned into a wizened old human with platinum hair and a big beard.

“I, too, like to wander the realms as a human,” Bahamut explained as he approached Bobbi. “Are you ready to begin your ascent towards the heights of your kind, to become a Beast Sovereign?”

“I am. I need to be much stronger to be able to keep up with my bond-mate and companions,” Bobbi admitted a little shamefully.

“Few are the candidates who come before me with authorities of their own, fewer still are those who seek more power to protect or defend their friends. Even among my legacy, many who reach the pinnacle seek only power for powers sake, or to defend their hoard from others. I have watched you, little dragon, since you made your pact with Hestia.”

“That’s a little creepy,” Bobbi noted.

“It’s what Tiamat and I do,” Bahamut didn’t disagree.

“So what’s the challenge?”

“Traditionally, there are three challenges upon which newly forged Beast Sovereigns may gnash their teeth and earn their first touch of authority as appropriate for their performance. You already possess three authorities and do not need to take the Trials of Justice, Valor, or Compassion, as you have already surpassed them on your own.” Bahamut explained, but Bobbi wondered if being given authority by her party really counted as passing a trial. Apparently, it did. Perhaps because she had managed to retain the authorities once given?

“So what, I came all this way for nothing? Can’t I take them and then just get another authority?”

“No, child. The broad authoritiy you already hold far outstrips the minor, precise, authorities awarded to a new Beast Sovereign. You hold total dominion over Fire. Not Dragon fire, frost fire, or black fire, but all fire. The vessel of your soul can hold only so many authorities. Why pick up lesser authorities when you stand amongst those who gather greater authority regularly? No, a lesser authority would diminish you.”

“You aren’t here for that, anyway. You are here to become a Beast Sovereign, and walk universe as a peak existence amongst our kind. The first step upon that path for one of draconic heritage is to partake in the consumption of my blood. You will be transformed through my essence and reach the lowest rung of rulers.”

“Creepy, but I guess if drinking your blood is the trial, we do it your way. How come StarMane’s only get draconic predecessors and no feline ones?” Bobbi had wondered that ever since she learned that StarMane’s final transformation occurred under the eye of Bahamut or Tiamat. Why not under Leo the Lion? Sekhmet? Bastet?

“Your ancestors kept trying to eat anyone other than Tiamat or myself,” Bahamut laughed. “No one else is willing to take on this role for your people, and so it falls to us to maintain the ancient rites.”

Stolen novel; please report.

“So, you going to cut yourself, or do I have to put you in a choke-hold and drain you like a vampire, or how does this go down?” Bobbi stretched out, perfectly willing to commit violence against the eldest male dragon in existence.

“That won’t be necessary. Drink until you can drink no more,” a platinum chalice appeared in Bahamut’s hands. It contained a dark red blood that practically glowed with an inner light.

“The cup makes your blood look darker than it is, doesn’t it?” Bobbi asked before she drank.

“There were complaints about my blood looking light red instead of dark red. I compromised with the chalice.”

“You mean pink, right?”

“Lightish red?”

“Pink. P-i-n-k, like my eyes and hair?” Bobbi lifted a finger to show her now pink hair off, then contrasted it to the cup's contents.

“Fine, it’s pink, all right? Shut up and drink it. Even the best of you, StarManes, are the worst.” Bahamut grumbled, and his offended face looked perfect with the guise of the old white-haired human wizard façade he had used.

Bobbi chuckled at Bahamut’s antics. She was honestly surprised that the ancient dragon would even bother to play along with her like this. So, she didn’t delay any further and lifted the chalice to her lips and drank. The first rush of blood over her lips tasted sweet, like pineapple, followed by heat and spice, as if someone had tossed a few pineapples to float atop a slurry of extremely spicy peppers. The more that flowed down the back of her throat the cooler the concoction got, and the spice turned into a refreshing spearmint that soothed the tissues of her aching throat and esophagus.

Why were they aching, though? Bobbi could eat lava without a problem, and had on plenty of occasions taken bites from supreme fire spirits. The awareness of her body that only a shapeshifter possessed told her the reason was quite simple. Her cells, organs, and fleshy bits had all begun the process of turning her into a Bobbi Slushy. Bahamut’s blood broke down her form, her essence, and pressed her material and spiritual self into a singular whole, and then tried to cool it down with the power of spearmint so that she could reform.

The form that rose from the pile of ooze she’d melted into wasn’t your traditional StarMane in any way. Instead, Bobbi arose in the form of almost a human woman. Her skin color was dark brown, her eyes a bright pink with a feline iris. Bobbi’s cheekbones were sharp, downright predatory when combined with the cat eyes, and her nails were naturally sharp and curved like claws. Pink hair flowed freely to just past her jaw, and dark red furry cat ears peaked out above her hair where a normal human’s ears would be, instead, a pair of horns formed and curled backward: large black wings and a powerful, pink-furred tail formed from her upper buttocks.

“Impressive, you know who and what you are, it would seem.” Bahamut sounded impressed as if it was rare for a humanoid figure to emerge from the ooze of transformation.

“I’m the best,” Bobbi agreed with him while she looked herself over. Scales formed occasionally, and her pigmentation shifted slightly to her will. Why would she ever do such trivial things as makeup when she could just look exactly how she wanted? Especially when you spent all your time with a Nephilim and another shapeshifter who had authority over Beauty. Not that Telos gave Bobbi a complex or that it was a competition, but being cognizant of why things were how they were was important to Bobbi. A good chef had to know what ingredients and quality she worked with.

“The children of Tiamat associate their new power with new size. Some of those who visit me here do the same, but I am impressed you didn’t seek to try and out-do me, but also curious why that is?” Bahamut looked intrigued.

“You aren’t my competition, old dragon. There’s a little twerp who’s a scion of Tiamat, who thinks just because he was only hatched a few hundred years ago and beat me to Beast Sovereign that he’s better than me. Being faster, bigger, younger, older, whatever, isn’t going to be the deciding factor between us. It’ll be which of us can help our bond-mate the most, but also me, because I’m the better cook when he doesn’t cheat.”

Bahamut laughed earnestly. “I see, so you have a rival.”

“Yeah, I do. And even if I didn’t have a rival, a tall human woman is the most powerful being I’ve ever seen in the universe.”

“Yes, she’s the talk of the moment amongst us ancient ones. The death of Izanagi came as a complete shock, and Moros followed quickly there-after. Who will be next? A time of great change and upheaval faces the universe.” Bahamut might as well have been saying he’d had a coffee for breakfast, for all that it seemed actually to matter to him.

“What will you do?”

“Stay out of her way, obviously,” Bahamut laughed.

“Good luck with that one, buddy. No one’s, and nothing is safe from Telos and Kallos. Look at me, I was just minding my own business as a megastar inter-galactic chef in the Tower’s and now I’m slaying ancient terrors and consuming gods. Talk about a massive boost in job satisfaction.” Bobbi flashed a hungry smile at Bahamut, but she could feel the vision already losing its grasp upon her, and her being was drawn back towards her true body.

“Thanks for the snack!” Bobbi shouted through the ether to Bahamut, and then opened her eyes. Arkaziel lay on the multi-hued sand. His yellow eyes fixated on her. When he noticed she woke up, he nodded.

“Congratulations, Slay,” Arkaziel grunted, then rose from where he’d been curled up in the sand, shaking showers of the terrible material into the air from his fur. “Cute humanoid form. How big is your dragon form?”

“Thanks, twerp,” Bobbi couldn’t help smiling at the younger StarMane, who immediately fell into the same trap that Bahamut predicted of any of those who bore Tiamat’s blood. It was clear he’d been watching over her, which was sweet, but it was also clear he still wanted to compete with her. “As big as I need it to be?”

“As big as you need to be? That’s not an answer. City size? Moon size? You aren’t as big as a planet yet, are you?” Arkaziel sounded worried, then shook his head. “No, no, of course not.”

“Where’d Kallos and Telos go?”

“Probably having sex in the tent again, unless they’ve moved on to setting up the ritual for that goofy torch she’s got. Since I’m not being blocked out of the empathic bond, I’ll go with they’re probably setting up the ritual.”

“Let’s go take a look, then,” Bobbi whistled and set off to the other side of the tent, towards the churning seas of chaos, where all manner of foreign objects bubbled to the surface, only to sink and vanish.