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The tyrant watched from his throne, the towering dragon bones looming above him.

Carluch stepped forward, dagger in hand. He moved to Jason first, cutting a small slit along his neck and collarbone, down his ribs and stopping at his heart. This allowed him to press the antidote into the body. Carluch pressed a rag soaked in oils and herbs onto Jason's skin, letting it seep in. He did the same to Rudra. Then to Morse.

The burning purple was allowed to do its work, without being fatal. Through their eyes, the purple dragon blood crept into their veins, into their minds. As it did, their minds heard the sound of ethereal voices, an invisible chorus, along with snakes hissing at their feet. The three captives fell into a trance, feeling as though they had become part of something ancient and raw.

Then, suddenly, they collapsed. Their minds lost in a swirl of the unconscious.

Carluch moved swiftly. He pressed the second antidote into their bodies. He had to be precise. If the dosage was off at all, they'd be dead. He took time and care, with absolute focus, a strange look for such an ugly creature as himself. He was human, after all, even though his line had been perverted by the divine purple, which gave his lineage its special visions, but also made them disgusting and vile, with twisted horns and fat wide faces. He finished applying the antidotes and waited. It wouldn't be long before each of the three captives awoke, with a raw, unfiltered mind, so that they could be interrogated.

The tyrant stroked his long gray beard. He ignored the three captives. His eyes were turned to the elf queen Frine, who stared at the ground. She couldn't stand to see another elf in this situation. The two humans, or the human and this sky person? She couldn't care less. But the tyrant had plans for Frine, which he calculated in the brutal corners of his mind, and which he'd exact in his chamber soon enough.

First, the captives had to speak, and they were almost read. Carluch scurried to each one, monitoring their vitals, ensuring that the boundary between life and death wasn't broken. Then, in a sudden movement, each of them - Jason, Rudra, and Morse - woke up from the draconic blood spell they'd been under.

Carluch stood over them with his ugly, toothy grin. "You saw your destiny in there," he said, voice low. "The last thing you will face before death. Only you know it, in your heart now, so keep it close. But for now, you will answer my questions straight and true."

The three captives groaned, their eyes groggy and stinging from the purple dragon blood. The chamber was blurry and they were disoriented, unsure of where they were or why. The seer Carluch did speak true, however, as each of them had a small taste of their future, a shadowy vision of their last hour, although it would've been impossible for them to articulate what they each saw.

They started to come to when Carluch posed his questions.

"You there, orange eyed girl," the seer started. "Tell me, where do you come from?"

Morse sputtered. "Elovia."

"And where is that?" Carluch asked. "On what continent of Lokar?"

"It's in the sky," Morse said. "Not on Lokar."

Carluch looked over to to the tyrant for direction. The tyrant sighed and nodded, giving the sign that he trusted the answer.

"Ask her about the threat," the tyrant said.

"How will the Shadurak be defeated?" Carluch asked.

"By sound," Morse answered. "One that you can't hear."

"Riddles again," the tyrant said. "Enough, move on."

The seer moved onto Jason now.

"You there," Carluch said. "Tell me, why were you in the forest with this girl from Elovia?" Jason could barely mumble the answer. Carluch lifted up his chin and dabbed his lips and tongue with a wet rag. "Answer me now, boy."

"I saw the light flash." Jason coughed the words. "In the forest, in the forest."

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"Move on, he's useless," the tyrant said. "I want to know the elf's business."

Carluch nodded and stepped away from Jason. He stood in front of Rudra now, who appeared to have the most power and strength after the dose of the purple dragon blood.

"Tell us elf," Carluch said. "What are you doing in this kingdom? Who is your master?"

Rudra gritted his teeth and spit on Carluch's foot.

"That's not an answer," Carluch said. He slapped Rudra across the cheek. "Answer now, what are you doing in this kingdom, and who is your master?"

Rudra grunted and bit his tongue, enough for it to bleed. Carluch repeated the question again. Rudra spit blood onto the stone floor, fell to the side, and shouted elvish curses that echoed in the chamber. The elf queen Frine looked away, which didn't go unnoticed by the tyrant, which gave him a spark of an idea.

Carluch posed the questions to Rudra again, who remained defiant, biting down on his tongue and screaming in pain rather than answering the seer. This continued on for a few rounds of back and forth before the tyrant stepped in.

"Hold on, hold on," the tyrant said. "I know why this rogue elf is here. He's here for his queen, who stands right there. Let's play a little game. Bring the elf queen before me and strip her down naked. I want to see my prize. Then ask the elf what he thinks. Guards, bring her before me, and cut off her clothes. I want to see my new bride, fresh and raw, before I take her to my lair."

The guards were more than ready to do this bidding. The elf queen Frine was beautiful. Her sweet blond hair tumbled like a waterfall over her shoulders and down to the small of her back. Her pointed ears were delicate and soft, perfectly formed, and her delicious curves were hidden only by thin aristocratic layers of elfish cloth. Her eyes were like emeralds and lips were red rose petals. The guards grabbed hold of her arms and pushed her before the tyrant. One guard pulled out a short sword and cut off her top, which fell to the stone floor. Frine stood nude before the tyrant now, who grinned at the succulent body in front of him. She looked forward, unashamed of her nude form, even though she knew it was the morsel that the tyrant would feast on soon enough.

"You may get my body," Frine said, staring at the Tyrant Rayos. "But my heart is back in Altaimi."

"We'll see about that," the tyrant sneered. "Guards, push her into my lair. I'll take what I want from her later. And the captives, the three of them here, we'll take them to the dungeon. There are more pressing concerns now. I want to know your vision of the danger that comes now, of the darkness that must not be named."

Frine was bound by rope and gagged, then pulled off to the tyrant's private lair. Carluch shuffled his feet across the cold stone floor. His bald head and fat face deceptively hid the fact that he alone had the lineage of the seer, which bore the ancient visions of the Aeons, from the first until the present seventh. He could bring the past to life by way of the purple dragon blood.

Carluch dipped his dagger into the cauldron that held the dragon’s heart. The sticky purple substance pulsed, beating slowly with a soft, rhythmic thud. He lifted the dagger, touched the tip to his tongue, and closed his eyes. The vision overtook him now.

"This force that’s coming," Carl murmured. "Has been seen by others before. The ancients wrote of it. They said that when the ones from the stars return, it will mark the end. The apocalypse."

He opened his eyes, staring into the tyrant’s.

"I know this to be true because I have seen it," Carluch continued. "Because I can raise the dead. Because I have spoken to them." His voice grew fervent. "I have stood in the chambers of heroes long locked in hells and realms and rings beyond mortal comprehension. I know the truth. I can see the truth. And these dead souls say this: 'when the one from the stars descends, it will be in the land of the north.' That is Hilaboreas, this very kingdom."

Carl turned to Tyrant Rayos. "That is why, when I found you, I chose to be at your side. Because now there are two paths."

He held up two fingers.

"The first, humanity ends. The other, our kingdom ends. Your bloodline ends. There is no path forward." He dropped one finger. "The ancients foresaw that when the people from the stars land, a shadow will rise from the east. A great plague, the Shadukar. A terrible force with the power of a warrior, who will raid our cities, storm our castles, and destroy everything we've built."

Carluch stepped closer to the tyrant's throne, his voice turning sharp. "Remember, Rayos. It was humans who built this world. We made the elves, crafting them in our labs in the First Aeon. We conjured the Morlogian races—the orcs, the trolls, the goblins. And we are the ones who made the Shadurak."

His fat white finger traced the air, pointing toward Morse. She looked up, unsure of what he wanted, still reeling from her own visions on the purple dragon's blood and the loss of her connection to Elovia.

"When this one comes," Carluch whispered, "the shadow will rise. That is the word I bring you today, my tyrant. And what have I found?"

His voice swelled with certainty. "One from the stars. There is no doubt. Destiny begins today."

Carluch raised his second finger again. "On one path, everything ends. But on the other…" His lips curled into a knowing smile. "A hero rises. One who saves it all. One who ushers us into the next Aeon—the Eighth Aeon—where humans reclaim their dominion and enter a new cycle of creation."

The seer's eyes gleamed as he continued. "It is written in the aethers, where I have my visions. The ones buried deep beneath the mountain lairs, beneath the dragons, beneath the chambers of the eastern cities, where the men with green gloves dwell, far below the innards of the Lokar. I speak from that space and tell your destiny now."

With that, Carluch fell to his knees, overcome by the power of his visions. Even this seer, who was accustomed to taking strong doses of the purple dragon blood, couldn't withstand the power of what he saw now.

A heavy silence filled the chamber. The Tyrant Rayos, for once in his life, had nothing to say.