I stiffened. “I am not your brother.”

“And was I speaking to you, morsel?”

Rage which had formerly simmered like a pot left unattended suddenly flared and boiled over in my mind. I staggered back as the dragon’s two eyes locked on me. Still, I would not show weakness, I would not back down. Instead I stood firm with my hands on my hips as Crim anxiously crowded my ankles. “You are now! I made her bleed, I can make you bleed!”

The dragon laughed, a low sound like the tremors of the earth. A pebble from the ceiling bounced off my shoulder. “Then why do you tremble, little bird? Why talk? If you’re here to kill me then fight—or die!”

That was as clear a challenge as ever I’d heard. Without thinking on it further I unsheathed a dagger in one fluid motion then darted forwards, slashing the beast across its nose. The blade bounced off the tough scales, and as magic energy and heat from channeling flooded my body, my strategic mind began to work again. The great beast’s maw opened, perhaps preparing some great flaming attack—I couldn’t allow that. Another slash, this time against its lungs, pumping searing heat into the beast’s flesh.

Exception no—that weren’t work. Dragons were monsters of fire, there was no chance such a thing would hurt it. I readjusted my posture and waited for the dragon’s next move. A gravely sound of grinding stone emanated from the depths of its throat, but no molten spew followed. It wasn’t an attack.

It was laughing?

A deep, boisterous sound, straight from the depths of its cavernous ribcage. Feeling the vibrations of its mirth shake my own bones, I had to wonder just how massive this beast was. Finally the noise died down as the dragon gazed upon me, properly, for the first time. There was something new in its sunset-hued eyes now. Almost a crazed intensity, manic and volatile, forced into frightening sanity and focus. Something very old and powerful had pinned me with its gaze. Despite myself, I blinked.

A puff of smoke escaped the thing’s nostrils. “Ahahahaha… You’re afraid.” It shifted slightly again, seeming to adjust its bulk within the narrow tunnels and make itself more comfortable. Then it revealed its serrated fangs again, almost grinning. “You remind me of someone. Another little bird who thought himself special, for making her bleed. I do indeed believe you’ve done it, but it is not enough to mark you equal to a dragon, falcon-spawn. I may be hungry, morsel, but I’ve also been terribly bored down here. It’s been a very long time since the mice from above wised up to my presence. So. Entertain me.”

“Why should I do that?” I hissed.

“The longer you sate my boredom, the longer you’ll avoid sating my hunger.”

“And why shouldn’t I just turn around and leave?”

The beast’s eyes narrowed, not with suspicion or displeasure, but in the way of a parent listening to a child telling tales. “You knew I was down here, didn’t you? Why come down here at all? No,” it said, shaking its head slightly as its horns screeched against the ceiling, “we are too alike, little bird. We don’t want mother bleeding. We want mother DEAD. I am powerful and knowledgeable, but I am trapped. You are weak and stupid, but you are free.”

It hesitated, then added, “Perhaps, if you entertain me well enough, I’ll tell you how to kill her. Isn’t that why you came to find me in the first place?”

It was. And a part of me still hoped. But something about all this struck me as too convenient. I had more reason to trust Hallow Zaya, and not even she had given me a satisfactory answer on how to fight the Fiend.

“Why should you hate the Fiend so much? Isn’t she your mother? And if the Falcon trapped you here, why should I believe your power and knowledge is at all valuable to me?”

“It was not the Falcon who trapped me here. It was Crown Naruune. Hypocrite,” it spat. “She claims such responsibility for the small lives. And yet she cannot—will not defeat her Crown Ruuthelaine for them. Only the dragons.”

My mind lingered on those final words. “I don’t…what?”

The great eyes blinked, as its heavy head tilted slightly. Curiosity. “You did not realize she was a Crown? No, no—that face, you knew she was a Crown. You simply did not want to admit it.”

“A Crown is a God of Life. That beast only causes destruction. She’s—she’s a mother only to monsters—”

“But she is a mother. Or did you think she actually birthed all those detestable creatures? Birthed us?” it asked.

When I remained silent, it went on, beginning to sound almost wistful. “No. It was with her help we reincarnated and lived our second lives. We were the first people, the Primordials. We were here when the world, when Naea, was young and life was everywhere. Power swirled in the air.” Its voice grew deeper and deeper as it spoke, descending into a bestial growl as it finally bit out, “Now I only see a pale shadow of all that was, populated by ants!”

Crim nuzzled into my ankle, his warmth a comforting counterpoint to the oppressive heat bearing down on me. “I am not an ant,” I whispered.

“You may as well be one!”

“Why do you hate her so much? How can a God of Life do something like this?”

“Boredom will drive anyone to such ends," he sighed.

I knew the horrors humans could inflict upon each other better than anyone. And yet, something in my chest still sank with disappointment. “Boredom. It really is just…boredom?”

“You think she needs a reason to ruin your life, to shatter your village and kill your sister? You think too highly of yourself, little bird.”

I opened my mouth to respond, only to feel a stab of ice despite the heat enveloping me. “…How do you know about that.”

“Do you know what you are doing, boy?”

Making a terribly foolish decision. Every part of me screamed that I should flee, find another way out. Crim was cooing anxiously at my feet now. Instead I pressed on—I had come too far to back down now. “Channeling. Zaya…Hallow Zaya taught me well.”

The dragon snorted contemplatively. “So Naruune’s runt is still around.” It shook its head. “Channeling is not mere prayer or plea. It is not simply magic. It is not basic communication. It is the very oldest language, the tongue of the Crowns and Primordials themselves. It is the sharing of thought, impulse, emotion. Of self.” Its mouth parted again in a predatory grin. “You are being sloppy, little bird, letting your memories and emotions spill over.”

Slowly its snout drifted forward, sulfur and cinders on its breath. I scrunched my face in disgust as its next words reached my ears. “Your mentor, Harrier, was it…I see he did as good a job as he could. But you are broken, plain and simple. Because of what she did.”

Harrier. How the Hell did the beast know that name?

It being aware of Asha, somehow, was bad enough. But now my old mentor’s teachings and drills washed over me like a relentless boiling sea. The eradication of the Fiend was worth any cost. It was worth a war with Gresha, it was worth purging the weak. It was certainly worth one petty life, over a longer life of cowardice and softness. Before meeting Elian, even when I rejected the man, his teachings were my whole life.

He told me I was special. He told me I was his prodigy. And when I fell into conflict with him, I took his words to heart, and decided I didn’t need him any longer.

But what was I doing with myself now, without any purpose to guide me? I told myself I was hunting for leads on how to hurt the Sun Fiend. But I knew how to hurt her already—I just needed to commit.

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Stars above and below. When did I become such a coward. What poison did those two put in my brains?

“Your lungs don’t work right, after breathing her smoke. Even if they did, your body is too small to wield a magic capable of killing a god. Especially like her,” said the dragon, piercing through my spiraling thoughts, and I felt so weak, so vulnerable. “You are an ant in the face of the sun. Give up. Go hide in the woods like she does.”

But no. No, that was wrong. I was Talon of the Angra-Fyr, prodigy of my people.

And I was going to fulfill our thousand-year purpose.

I was going to kill the Sun Fiend.

“That’s wrong!” I cried. “You’re wrong! I didn’t get myself trapped down here all for nothing!”

“You think you can kill her? You’re too frightened to even kill me. You’ll die in the dark. We are the same.”

“We are not the same,” I said, lip twisting in a cruel grimace. “You said it yourself. I’m the one free.”

Channeling. He had said that channeling was a method of communication, a method of sharing thought, impulse, emotion, soul. Could it share memories, as well? He certainly seemed capable of peering into mine.

It must be possible to yank his away, as well!

The mindset of channeling came naturally to me now. Interpreting the emotions and thoughts that came with it, too, were something I had practiced much. With Zaya, with the Rootkin, with this fiend. I knew what I was looking for. I sought it out, feeling its fuzzy edges, firmly took hold—and pulled.

A flood of images, of alien and overpowering emotions, washed over me and nearly swept me away. Before my eyes nations rose and fell, little ants crawling across the land. A massive, opalescent and many-winged, bone-armored abomination the size of the moon hung in the sky in the manner of a mountain waiting to fall—unnatural and ominous. Acrid smoke choked out the sun and moon and polluted the very air. But the smell of it did not fill me with dread any longer. Now it was an old friend, not hindering me at all as I gulped down deep, energizing breaths. A fire rippled and coursed through my body, from the tips of my wings down a powerful, rugged tail. Powerful, beautiful—more energy than I’d ever felt contained in a body, more emotion than a soul could feel in a life.

The ants, the other-fiend, the smoke, all vanished. Forests dominated the world, populated by different crawling things. Hard-shelled, winged, with feathery antennae and beady eyes. I remembered the beast seen from the boy’s memory, the great beetle, and recognized more of them—they were beasts of burden, domesticated. And those rootkin that the young goddess-girl would consider so precious, they were everywhere now. And further back, yet further. I glimpsed three immense creatures, bigger than the mountains and with souls more brilliant than the brightest star—a red-scaled and wingless dragon studded with blazing, jagged points like a star prepared for war; a pristine white wolf enshrouded by a cloud of delicate wings, too fragile and beautiful to possibly support its weight; a grand serpent bedazzled with fins and scales, ranging from the lightest cerulean to the deepest sapphire and cobalt, seeming more real than the world itself.

Blue. That’s right. The color of the sky had its own name, and such a vast array of different hues. So many new colors, so many new words—tyrian, smaragdine, zaffre, verdigris. So much knowledge crowded around the edges of my cranium, promising everything I could need. The weaknesses of the Fiend, the secrets of manipulating heat and flame, the memory of a billion years. I need not even ask for such knowledge. I need only let it in, and a rage of a thousand, thousand years blazed through my veins.

Yes. Yes. I had tried to kill her before until that hypocrite snake pinned me in her deepest dungeons until she wrecked Elian’s arm and left us to die but I would try again, and this time I would not fail. Vengeance was promised to me and vengeance I would deliver through this new vessel through this new knowledge through this second chance offered to me. I would burn out in the attempt, but I would have won, I would free myself from those petty, selfish, despicably human Crowns forevermore.

I was trapped, but I was free. I was weak, but I was strong. I was human, but I was a dragon, a Primordial. I was Talon but now I was A—

Talon. You’re Talon.

Talon, come back.

The boiling magma in my veins suddenly cooled, replaced with only a comforting, grounding warmth. The overpowering, overwhelming emotion faded to a background hum, as something smaller but pointed like a wicked needle pierced my heart. Something as small as sharing a meal in a forest with an idiot, foolish boy.

Soft carpets of moss and decaying leaves beneath my foot. The babbling of a distant stream playing counterpoint to a wood fire’s crackling. Biting into greasy, dripping meat that exploded with spicy flavor across my tongue, as an annoying, wonderful voice went on, and on, and on. Bright hazel eyes that fascinated me but that I hadn’t then realized hid a hundred emotions.

A boy who had stared down the Queen of Dragons and somehow, somehow kept his sanity intact.

A mere dragon was nearly enough to break me. I did not doubt that with this knowledge and power, I could, if not kill her, at least greatly wound her. She would feel my pain at last, and truly remember my name. This way I could hurt her in ways I could never dream of as a human. But my mind would break, and my soul would be swallowed up by one so much greater. By choosing my anger and my vengeance, what would I be giving up?

The warmth gradually soaked me with a leaden comfort as I traced through my brighter memories, and I finally allowed myself to think on Elian’s offer. My friend had always seemed so certain. But in lying he seemed to flail and kick wildly, grasping at anything he could. Less of a plan, and more of a desperate wish. Those emotions I had felt in our duel—the ones I didn’t want to untangle—only made me more frightened. But he had known the Crown longer than I had. He had always been so much stronger and cleverer than I thought.

Perhaps I did not need my anger anymore. And perhaps I did not need the dragon, either.

Instead I clung to the warmth, slowly returning to myself. As the world faded in around me once more, to my surprise I found two hot streams pouring down my cheeks. My breath hitched, as I reached up to touch my cheeks, then pulled my hand away, staring at the glistening droplet in the dragon’s red-hot glow. When was the last time I had let myself cry.

Something tugged at my pants, and then with but two flaps of his wings Crim leapt up to my shoulder. His wings and long neck wrapped around me, a deep rumbling or purring leaking from his throat. Almost like a lost child I reached up to cling to him, my breath hitching again. The bird felt so very warm.

When the dragon spoke again, I flinched. It seemed impossible to forget that such a being was still there, and yet, somehow, I had. “So. You are free.”

My head reeled in the aftermath of what had happened. “What…did you try to do to me…?”

“A word of advice. Wrath suits a dragon. It does not suit an ant. But even biting and stinging insects can fell dragons, should they find a way.” His lips parted again, revealing serrated, cracked fangs. “That foul bird Amurensis managed it, though he could only drive us to flee in the end.”

He fell silent again, gazing at me curiously. No longer did those ancient eyes seem quite so intense, wrathful, manic. Now they simply seemed tired.

“Little bird,” he proclaimed, simply. “I am very old and very bored. If you could help me find a way out, I shall give you a great boon.”

An almost hysterical laugh forced its way from my throat. Crim wrapped his wings around me tighter. “Why should I do anything for you? You tried—you tried to eat me! To make me—what did you DO to me?”

The dragon only snorted. “You did it to yourself. But your companion seems more fond of you than I anticipated.” He shook his head. “And I don’t mean freeing me in that sense. Your people make weapons and armor from the remains of monsters, do they not?”

It took me an embarrassingly long time to gather my thoughts and realize what the beast was implying. “Oh.”

“Oh,” he echoed, mockingly.

“Are you sure?”

“ If you succeed in slaying me, I can hardly stop you from taking what you please, can I? And I have said it before. You will never defeat her. Not if you cannot defeat me.” He grinned, bitterly, mirthlessly. “Go, little bird. Make her bleed, for both of us, in your own way.”

The words caused something uncomfortable to twist in my chest, like a raw wound being aggravated. “I won’t do it for you. I won’t do anything for you.”

“Then do it for your friends. Or did you really leave them both alone, to be watched by her? You’re no better than the runt Zaya. Than your hated Fiend.”

I hated to admit it. But as awful as this dragon was, whatever it had tried to do to me, this offer was perhaps still my best chance to slay the Sun Fiend. Or even to help others do so. I was now determined not to die in the attack against her, but I was even more sure of my conclusion than ever before—the kind of life I desired would never be within reach. Not until she was dead.

Not until she no longer stalked and haunted my friend.

“Fine,” I agreed.

His grin lightened, only slightly. “Until we meet again, little brother.”

I scowled at the familiarity. “I am not your little brother. My name is Talon

“I am aware. And you know my name as well. Don’t you.”

I should have left, then and there. But I did know, and I had to answer.

“Farewell, Alunelaine,” I whispered.

Alunelaine. Not too different than Orioselaine. Or Ruuthelaine. And yet, the name felt familiar in other ways too, not just from the ghostly echoes of my faux-memories.

Alunelaine closed his great and heavy eyes. “Until we meet again, Talon. ‘Crim.’ ”