Saraalinisa looked around with wide eyes, her every footfall accompanied by fresh awe. The trees were so green, the local fauna so varied – it was so distinctly wild that she could not help but wonder if the curated forests of her homeland even qualified for the label. The Empire of Scale was one of the oldest in existence, and though there were plenty of untamed lands within its borders, the inhabited territory was so thoroughly controlled that it could scarcely even be called wild.

Or that was true of anyplace Saraalinisa had been allowed to roam unsupervised. That was why she had begged her mother to allow her to visit the newly integrated world called Earth. If she was ever to realize her potential as a true dragon, she needed to experience a world without the protection and guidance of her everpresent chaperones.

It had taken some time to convince her mother – a powerful elder dragon in her own right – but in the end, her logic was unassailable. No one truly progressed beneath the shelter of a powerful wing. Instead, a hatchling had to experience the world for herself, lest she be unprepared for the challenges inherent in evolution.

Earth represented a perfect opportunity. Even though Saraalinisa was barely more than a hatchling, she was still a member of an elder race. That meant that she was at the pinnacle of what could exist on a newly integrated world. Of the inhabitants of Earth, only truly mighty Guardians could rival her power, and those posed no threat to her. Indeed, they would be more likely to assist than attack.

No - she was in no real danger. Otherwise, her mother never would have allowed her to visit the planet.

So, the juvenile dragon was more than a little surprised when she caught an ephemeral whiff of something extremely interesting. Since coming to Earth, she had sensed plenty of spikes of Ethera. The world was still in flux, and as such, the ambient Ethera was unsettled. However, there was a distinct difference between wild Ethera and what she felt in the distance. It wasn’t just powerful. It was enticing in a way she couldn’t quite understand. As a result, Saraalinisa was moving before she had a chance to examine her curiosity.

Her form was large – at least for the tiny world in which she found herself – but she moved through the forest with sinuous speed. A few local animals fled before her, and rightly so. While she was barely more than a hatchling, on Earth, she was mighty, and the wildlife could sense that they were in the presence of an apex hunter.

It reminded her of her youth, when she was little more than a clever lizard. That was decades ago, but she still remembered it with some degree of fondness. Back then, she had fought, tooth and claw, for every advantage. And through some twist of fate, she’d managed to survive. She had thrived, steadily growing in power and intelligence until, at last, sapience had bloomed.

That was when her mother had found her. From then on, she had been coddled as she was ushered into juvenility. She had grown into a mighty – if young – dragon. Still, Saraalinisa had a long way to go before she could truly claim her birthright, and when she did, she would need to be much, much stronger.

Those thoughts and more slithered through her mind as she stalked through the forest. Every now and then, she came across particularly slow animals, which she used to satisfy her budding hunger. The furry, little creatures went down in a single gulp, reminding her of what she had left behind. They were not unpleasant; in fact, despite the gamey tinge to the meat, she enjoyed the little morsels. However, they were nothing compared to the feasts her mother’s servants prepared on a daily basis.

Gradually, she drew closer to the curious ethereal aroma, and with every step, it grew more potent until she could think of little else. In the back of her mind, Saraalinisa knew she should have maintained caution, but a combination of the overwhelmingly enticing smell, her natural curiosity, and the certitude in her own might pushed it aside.

Still, she maintained her wits enough that, when she reached the source, she recognized it for the danger it represented. But by that point, she could not stop, and she ran headlong into the trap. Even as the ethereal bonds snapped around her, she fought against them, ripping them to pieces with her claws and teeth. If she was a little older, she might have won free. However, the trap had been well designed, and soon enough, she found herself pressed against the loamy forest floor. Incapable of moving, she tried to use her natural gifts, but only a tiny gout of golden flame came from her snout. And even that petered out after only a few seconds.

That was when she realized what was happening.

The trap was draining her Ethera. Panic enveloped her heart as she recognized the dangerous situation for what it was. She writhed and snapped, but her efforts were useless. Steadily, the trap siphoned her Strength away until exhaustion gripped her in its claws. She still tried to fight it, but soon enough, she could not even force herself to move. And then, darkness began to close in until, at last, she succumbed to unconsciousness.

The last thing she saw before she passed out was a grinning gnome with a blood-red mohawk.

* * *

Cabbot let out a sigh of relief as he looked at the gold dragon he’d trapped. It was still alive – no trap he could set would be sufficient to drain such a creature’s vitality – but it would remain unconscious until he released it. Which he wouldn’t. Instead, he had plans.

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“That what I think it is?” asked Brogan, the gnomish tracker who’d first found the dragon’s trail.

“You knew we were hunting a dragon,” Cabbot said, glancing at the shaggy-haired gnome.

“Aye. But I thought it was a dragonkin. Like a wyrm or a drake or somethin’,” the scout said. “Didn’t think we were huntin’ a real dragon. And a gold one at that. You sure you want to deal with that kind of weight?”

Cabbot rolled his eyes. Dragons were powerful enough, but they had to work within the confines dictated by the World Tree, just like everyone else. Sure, if he was stupid enough to ever go to the Empire of Scale – or one of their subordinate territories – he might be in trouble. But he didn’t think so. Earth was an unclaimed planet, and as such, he could do whatever he wanted.

Even if half the universe would look down on him for it.

The other half, on the other hand, would be jealous of the opportunity. But that was the nature of things, and just by virtue of his birth, he knew which side he fell on.

“I think we’ll be just fine,” Cabbot said. Then, to the others, he said, “Now, bind it, pack it away, and get it to the ritual chamber.”

Brogan spat, then asked, “You ain’t gonna help?”

“I have better things to do,” was Cabbot’s answer. The other gnome didn’t seem to like that very much, but Cabbot was banking on Brogan knowing who held the purse strings. “Just get it done.”

“Aight,” he said. Then to his helpers, he said, “C’mon boys. You heard ‘im. Let’s do it.”

Cabbot stayed around long enough to ensure that they weren’t going to mess it up, then retreated through the forest, eventually arriving back in Ironshore. Once he did, he quickly made his way to the barracks, where he collected the Ritualists he’d hired. They’d been cooling their heels for weeks while Cabbot and the others hunted the dragon down, and so, they were eager to finish the job.

To that end, Cabbot led them into the mines and to the specially prepared chamber where they would drain the dragon’s essence. There, they set up their rituals as Cabbot waited for the scouts to bring the creature along. Once they were finished, the leader asked, “What do you intend to do with the essence? I can offer you –”

“I have big plans,” Cabbot stated. “Very big plans.”

“Do you need the services of an alchemist?”

Cabbot shook his head. “No. I intend to use an old friend,” he said. “He is an Ascendent Alchemist working for the Ferdan Family.”

“Oh,” said the robed gnome. “Impressive. Making Ascendent as a craftsman is no small feat. He must be talented.”

“Indeed.”

“What of the other materials?” the ritualist leader asked. Cabbot still hadn’t learned his name. Nor did he want to. Ritualists who specialized in essence-draining were not looked upon favorably in most circles. They were necessary, but most people were uncomfortable with the process. Some people even called it a violation of a creature’s soul.

A ridiculous superstition, as far as Cabbot was concerned.

“I hadn’t thought about that,” he said. It would be a shame if such a potent resource went to waste. “Do you have something in mind?”

“I do. Our…organization will be happy to take them off your hands,” he said, greedily rubbing his hands together. “You will be compensated, of course. Not only will we pay…ah…handsomely for those resources, but we will also be in your debt. I don’t think I need to remind you of how useful that could be, considering the nature of our relationship.”

Indeed, the only reason Cabbot had known to call on Erlych in the first place was because he’d used them before. Not on anything so taboo as a dragon – or any other sentient race – but that relationship was the poorly concealed secret to his family’s power. After all, being able to trap powerful monsters was useless without the means to eke out every ounce of benefit, which was where the ritualists came in.

Or rather, the Cult of the Devourer. The Ritualists came from a comparatively weak sect within the cult, but they were clearly adherents of the religion. Cabbot didn’t know much about them, save that they worshipped an ancient Transcendent being whose power was built on consuming the power of others. He’d never researched more than that because, well, he found the notion far too enticing to trust.

The Church of the Devourer wasn’t exactly illegal, but the organization was certainly frowned upon in most societies. However, that didn’t stop people from seeking out their services; they just didn’t talk about it at parties.

In any case, Cabbot knew just how valuable a good relationship with the Church could be, so he said, “That’s fine with me. Just let me know what you’re willing to pay for the carcass, and we’ll address this once you’ve had a chance to examine it.”

“The creature is not an ‘it’,” the ritualist leader stated.

“What?”

“They have an identity. A gender. They are a living, thinking, and self-aware being with a soul,” he responded. “To refer to them as an ‘it’ robs it of dignity.”

“You’re about to drain it of its essence,” Cabbot stated. “It won’t have any dignity left when you’re done.”

“Yes. Our tenets require that we acknowledge what we’re taking,” he responded. “Make no mistake. A sapient being will die, their soul stripped away so that we may progress. That is as the Devourer dictates.”

Cabbot resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He’d seen the creature. It was nothing more than a giant, unthinking lizard. Perhaps it would one day be more – or it would’ve been before he captured it – but for now, it was just another monster.

He wasn’t going to say that, though. Not to a gnome who could, with a single order, ruin all of Cabbot’s plans. So, he just nodded his head in acquiescence, saying, “If you say so.”

After that, the conversation petered out until a couple of hours later when the hunters arrived. Between them they carried a sizable litter, the contents of which was covered in a heavy tarp. It was curious, but at a glance, there was no way anyone could have identified the bulky burden as a living dragon.

At the ritualists’ direction, the trackers-turned-porters deposited the creature in the center of the room, where the ritualists had drawn their glyphs and sigils. After that, they hurried away, clearly wanting nothing to do with what was going to happen next.

“How long?” asked Cabbot before they could get started.

“Days, at least. Maybe weeks. It depends on how much power she has.”

Cabbot nodded, then said, “Then let’s hope for weeks. I’ll leave you to it, then.”

The lead ritualist nodded, but before Cabbot could leave, he said, “Think on what I said. No power comes without sacrifice.”

Cabbot didn’t respond, instead pretending that he hadn’t heard. As he left the ritual chamber behind, passing into the mines, the whole of his mind was occupied as he considered everything he stood to gain.