This time, with Feather's surrender, the pancake hitting felt only like a slight tickle. When he opened his eyes, he was once again looking upon the desert, but from an even lower perspective than before.

His feet had sunk in deep this time.

Feeling a bit of his old common sense's urgency, Feather tugged and tried to release himself to no avail. There was no pulse this time, though. Instead, he felt himself getting dragged deeper into the sand, with no leverage to pull himself out again.

"Artois, can you get out?"

The warthog looked at him with all the most condescending look, as he proclaimed, "Why should I try to get out? Why should I do anything other than what I please to do?"

"Can you please stop it with the royal mightiness? Is there anything you can do to get us out?"

"I do not believe that evil will let us do anything other than what it wants."

Feather's belly made contact with the sand and was quickly being consumed by it. "You say it's an evil. What does that mean?"

"The Random Road cares little for morality, but even here there is evil. Those who attempt to impose order upon the road are deemed the greatest of evils."

Feather had no time to respond, as the sand pulled his body under, after which his neck and body quickly followed. It felt like being pulled under water, except it was a lot more oppresive, and if he opened his mouth it would fill with sand rather than water.

Unable to breathe, Feather let himself be dragged further, without resisting. The cherub had said it did not want to kill him, which meant it wanted to do something else with him.

Only, what?

Somehow, even without breathing, Feather survived another long descent; this one markedly slower than the last.

Finally, after eons of keeping his mouth tightly shut, Feather felt the tension around his body disappear as suddenly as it had started. With a 'plop' he fell the last few meters down upon a solid stone floor. Opening his eyes, Feather found himself in a large circular room, with black stone tiles on the floor, white panels on the surrounding wall. All of it was lit up by a series of torches.

Beside him, Artois fell upon the ground as well. Rising up on his haunches, the mighty warthog observed its new kingdom.

"This is your new home, Feather," said the voice of the cherub, its voice resounding through the chamber without any obvious source. "You will have some visitors soon. I want you to show them a good time. Before that, though, I need to do something about that meager appearance of yours."

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Sensing a tug at his tail, Feather tried to escape by quickly turning around himself, but it was useless. An invisible force was holding him fast. No amount of wriggling or fighting would allow him to escape, as the invisible force began tugging at his legs, his head, and body.

He felt like he was a piece of clay in the hands of a toddler; an apt description, considering the circumstances.

When the tugging finally ended, Feather found the room had shrunk considerably. Except, it had not. He had grown bigger. Looking down at himself, he was now a mighty lizard beast with strong legs ending in horrifying talons, a spiked tail that lazily whipped back and forth with his every motion, and a strong body with rippling muscles.

Hot damn!

"No, no... it's not good enough," Said the voice of the cherub, and Feather could almost feel the baby's head shaking despite being unable to see it, "Your form is too simple. You need something more."

With another tug, the invisible force grasped his foremost shoulder and ripped something out. Screaming with instinctual pain, Feather soon realized there was none. Looking at his back, Feather could now see to huge bat-like wings bloom from the base of his shoulder.

"There we are... that's better. Now we just need to give you a final touch."

The force grabbed his throat and forced his great head into a vertical position, then opened his mouth. Out of thin air, a portal opened and something spilled out into his mouth.

"Eat it, Feather," the voice commanded.

He did as he was told.

At first it was not so bad, but soon he felt his entire mouth was on fire. He tried to look at what the damn cherub was feeding him, and soon recognized the sight of spicy peppers. Very spicy peppers.

The flow continued, until Feather felt both his throat and stomach was beginning to flame up. With a roar, he freed himself from the invisible force and tried to spit out the remaining peppers.

Instead, a huge roaring flame erupted from his maw, instantly heating the cool chamber up.

Surprised, he closed his mouth, still feeling the massive fire burn in his throat. Only, it was no longer unpleasant.

"There we are: a real firebreathing dragon. Just as a last boss should be, don't you agree?" The voice laughed, a pearly laugh that was somewhat like that of a baby's - unsettlingly so.

Feather tried to speak, bu the moment he opened his mouth a tongue of flame flew out again. He quickly smothered it between his - now - massive fangs.

"Haha, you look magnificent, Feather. What am I saying, 'Feather' is such a boring name. A new form demands a new name, after all. From now on you are Terbanac, my mighty dragon and last boss of this dungeon!"

Dungeon? Terbanac thought, looking around. Was this the boss chamber?

"Hmph.. to let yourself be named by others. How low have you sunken, pitiful one?" Artois asked, huffing in mighty disappointment. Terbanac looked at his guide, whom he now towered over. Opening his mouth to speak, he instead let out a gout of flame, right at the warthog.

Sniffing with contempt, the guide jumped elegantly to the side, spun around in a way that his body should not allow, and landed gracefully on all four legs.

I'm sorry! Terbanac thought, a bit of Feather and Peter's old submissive attitudes shining through.

"You will let yourself become a toy?" Artois asked, huffing again, "This king is disappointed in you, pitiful one."

"Oh right," The voice of the cherub said, "You're also here. A mighty dragon needs a suitable underling, don't you agree?"