Tarander put down the book. Then he took a deep breath. Followed by another. He had a theory of what the dragon Dulgumor wanted to tell Arahu. A very dangerous theory. Very dangerous. Book in hand he pushed himself out of the chair. How long had he been reading? Was it night already?

»Tarander you need to keep track of time. You read the whole day again. « He shook his head, stretching his tense limbs. Flinched as the pain hit him. It wasn’t so bad though. He could still stand. A few slow and measured steps later he reached the large window on the east side of the tower. A small wooden chair awaited him. Tarander sat down, letting out a sigh. Braced himself. After gathering his bravery, he looked out the window. He saw what he had feared he might see. There it was. In the night sky, bright as day, the weeping dragon constellation. Rolling down its jaw were not one, not two, but three tears.

» You fool! You blind fool! How could you not have seen that? The first tear appeared as Arahu slayed his first Dragon and founded the Order of Dragonblood. The second tear appeared as he slew the Dragon in Hilland. Not offering help but slaughtering a lost dragon and its rider. But why the third tear? « Tarander screamed as he viciously scratched his head. A thought formed in the back of his head. Blossomed into an idea.

» What died this time? No Dragon? Not Mereth the Akai. But Arahu himself. But that means… That can’t be right! He… No! « Tarander started to shake his head vigorously. But shortly after, he slowed down, lowering his eyes. » He is an Akai! I see it now. «, he said defeated. »The second tear is not about the dragon. It is him refusing his heritage and… The third tear! The Third tear. It is him dying. Him giving up. The last prime Akai dying. «

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Yes, yes that had to be it! Mereth is an Akai born from another Akai. Arahu was born from an Orc and an Elf. In the wars he despised so much. Elves and orcs breaking apart the unity of this continent. Breeding the Akai in the aftermath. It is kind of ironic how he is what he hated so much, even more than Mereth was. » The fool! He killed himself. He was right! He doomed us all! Someone truly believed he was chosen to save us. That he even would save us. Now we all have a reason to cry. «

With that Tarander plunged into a fit of maniacal laughter that quickly turned into another coughing fit. He desperately grasped at the armrest of his chair, trying to hold on as his body tossed around. Suddenly, at the peak of the coughing fit Tarander felt a rush of energy building from within. As if every little shard of the crystals within him were set ablaze.

He braced himself for what was going to happen. Although like always he couldn’t discern the strength and nature of the reaction inside of him. Tarander screamed in pain as every fiber of his being seemed to have been set on fire. He caught a quick glance of his reflection in the Window. There he was. An old frail figure engulfed in blue flames being tossed around on a small wooden chair and a black leather-bound book in his hand. The crystalline shards in his body now burning hot. Searing into his flesh.

Burning from pain he reached into the book and ripped out the chapter he had just read. With all of his remaining focus he thought of the only one he could trust. His hand clenching the pages Tarander punched through the window in front of him. Glass shards piercing his thin skin. With the pages beginning to catch fire, he let go. Watched as they tumbled through the night, until they vanished from his view. Having lost all his willpower, he slumped back into the chair. The chair beneath him, charred, crumbled from his weight and the flames that have been eating at it. Then everything went silent. Dark. Numb.