"Be mindful of your words," Frostfang advised Squallwing as they made their way toward the mountains. "Regal Flame is not one to take offence without reason, but the place we are going… it is hallowed ground."

"Hallowed ground?" The younger dragon's brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"There is no need for me to explain. You will understand when you see it."

As they drew closer to the mountains looming up toward the sky, Frostfang felt the gaze of many dragons upon him. Dragons were often solitary creatures although they were happy to live with any mates they took and whatever hatchlings they might have. Yet there were still those amongst them who sought the company of others and who looked to others for direction.

That was why powerful dragons often had followers, typically younger dragons who sought their guidance and protection in exchange for serving loyally. It was nothing as regimented as the kingships amongst men, elves, or dwarves, but there was still a hierarchy. The ruling dragon was responsible for those below them and should offer advice and aid with regards to Awakenings and the like. In exchange, the lesser dragons would help defend their ruler's domain and handle any tasks that did not require their ruler's full attention.

Stormbringer had many such followers. They pledged themselves to her because she was powerful and easy-going, and she was known for her willingness to defend those who served her. Moreover, she had ready access to many resources and had demonstrated her ability to help other dragons achieve further Awakenings.

In the days before his wounding and encasement within a mountain, Ashheart had ruled over a group of dragons who shared his disposition and approach to life. They were fierce warriors and loyal to a fault, and they had sought to increase their power through combat and struggle. They had gone their separate ways after his fall, reuniting only when his mate and child had called for their aid, but they would likely regather now that he had returned.

Frostfang could not claim to rule over many dragons, for few dragons enjoyed the endless ice and snow of the true north. Yet the dragons who did live there answered to him. In exchange for his protection against greater threats and the guidance and aid he could provide toward further Awakenings, they helped guard the far north and aided the frost giants who also served him.

But the largest faction of all belonged to Regal Flame. Her father had been Sovereign Flame, the oldest and mightiest of all dragons. He had been a natural disaster given form, a raging inferno bound in scales who could have set the world ablaze if he chose. The Uncrowned King they had called him, for dragons had no kings, yet every dragon of the First Age knew that if ever they were to choose a king, it would be him.

When he and the other great dragons of the First Age had fallen, there had been a scramble for power and control amongst the survivors. Certain older dragons, more cowardly than the others, had hidden rather than fight. They had sought to claim dominion over the survivors, as though their survival was due to wisdom rather than cowardice.

For all that Mother Tree had turned against them in the end, Frostfang would always be grateful for what she had done to those dragons. She had despised their cowardice more than anyone. She would have gladly died beside her creators, but her own form had made it difficult for her to join them in battle. Instead, they had asked her to stay behind, to shelter and protect others.

Those arrogant dragons, those cowards and braggarts, had been lured to her tree, thinking they could cow her into submission with their numbers. Hah! Mother Tree had been older than even Sovereign Flame and so mighty that even the legendary dragons of the First Age would have been wary of facing her.

What did she have to fear from cowards who had only lived by hiding when they should have fought?

They had died at her hands, all of them, and though that might well have been the start of her downfall, Frostfang had never been able to bring himself to care. Those dragons had gotten what they deserved, for they had been little better than greedy, grasping fools seeking to take through trickery and cowardice what should only ever be gained through power and courage.

And so there had been space for new leaders amongst the dragons, and who better, in the eyes of many, than Regal Flame, the daughter of Sovereign Flame?

Over the Ages, dragons had flocked to her, and she had proven a worthy successor to her father. She could not match him in power – perhaps no dragon ever would – but she was wise and brave and mighty in her own right. She treated her followers well and many had risen high under her guidance and protection. In return, they served her with unwavering loyalty.

That loyalty had shown itself most clearly when many of them had perished in her defence during Soulseeker's treachery. Afterward, she had mourned them all and had done her best to help those they had left behind, from orphaned hatchlings to mates who were suddenly left alone.

But the reason Soulseeker had so envied her domain and had been willing to commit such base treachery could be found in what Regal Flame's domain contained. These mountains were amongst the very oldest in the world, and they were home to both Sovereign Flame's old lair and one of the most important remaining relics of the First Age.

"Look," Frostfang said. "Ahead of us."

Squallwing looked, and his wings missed a beat as all of his attention was draw to the sight before them.

At the heart of the mountains were seven great peaks, each so tall that their summits vanished into the clouds. And between them was a vast plateau of melted rock, so large that all the primordial dragons in the world could have gathered upon it with room to spare.

"What is this place?" Squallwing asked.

"They say that the Seven Gods worked together to make the first dragons. However, each of them had a favourite dragon whose creation they were most involved in. When their eggs were ready, they placed them deep within the seven peaks you see before you. This place, more than any other, could be called the birthplace of our kind. There were originally eight mountains, but Sovereign Flame wished for a place where he and the others could meet. He burned the eighth mountain with his fire until only the plateau remained."

"The rock of the plateau looks different," Squallwing said. He made a face. "My analytical magic… it's not working properly either."

"As sand can be melted into glass, so too did Sovereign Flame's fire melt the rock into something else. It has no name because it has never needed a name. It cannot be found anywhere else, for only Sovereign Flame's fire was hot enough to make it, and no flame before or since has ever been a match for his. No creature left in this world has the power to destroy it, and only the greatest of the dwarves of old could shape it. In the First Age, before the fall of the First Gods and the birth of the Broken God, the mightiest of our kind met here, and it was here that they held their council of war before their fateful battle against the Broken God."

Squallwing no longer seemed to notice his injuries. Instead, his gaze was locked onto the plateau and the mountains around it. "And now?"

"When it is necessary for primordial dragons like myself and your grandmother to meet in great numbers, this is where we meet. To hold dominion over this place is a great honour and one that should only belong to a select few."

Soulseeker had sought to steal that honour through treachery, and he had died for it – as well he should have. This place belonged to Regal Flame although Doomwing had some claim to it through his leadership over the years. However, Doomwing had never expressed any desire to take it for himself although he had made additions to it to honour their fallen and lay out the history of the world as they knew it.

"We are being watched," Squallwing said.

"Of course we are," Frostfang replied. "But pay them no mind. I am known to them and expected."

From the mountains and the skies, they were watched. There were dozens of dragons here, from hatchlings to those who had achieved multiple Awakenings and lived several Ages. None made any move to bar their path, and Frostfang banked toward the plateau.

"She is expecting me, so we will wait for her upon the plateau," Frostfang said. "But while we wait, you may wish to take a look around. There are things there you may find interesting. However, remember what I said. This is hallowed ground. Be respectful."

"I will."

They landed on the plateau, and Frostfang marvelled once again at the almost crystalline material that remained in the aftermath of Sovereign Flame's fire. Even now, Ages after it had been made, the material remained undamaged by the weather or the countless claws and scales that had scraped across it. It was an ever-present reminder of the long-dead dragon's power. He had fallen before the fury of the Broken God, but his flames had been mighty enough to wound even that most terrible of foes.

Beside him, Squallwing was doing his best to stay respectful as he peered curiously at the material beneath them, tapping it with his claws and running his tail over it. Frostfang had a sneaking suspicion that if they had not been under observation, he would have pressed his face against the ground.

As he waited for Squallwing to compose himself, a fire drake arrived. The drake's scales were worn and battered, more a dull grey than the vibrant red they should be. But that was understandable. Despite the Ascensions this drake had experienced, he was perhaps the oldest drake in the world.

"Allow me to welcome you on behalf of my lady," the drake said, spreading his wings and bowing. "She should be here shortly."

"It has been a long time, Firetail," Frostfang replied. "I would have expected you to be at her side."

The drake chuckled faintly. "I am not so sprightly as I once was. I would only slow her down. However, an old drake like me can still greet guests – although I do hope my presence does not insult you."

"Insult me?" Frostfang chuckled. "No. It does not. I would be fortunate to count one such as you amongst my followers."

It was true that dragons and drakes often did not get along, but Firetail was something of an exception. His family had pledged their loyalty to Sovereign Flame long ago. After his death, they had offered their loyalty to Regal Flame despite her being a mere hatchling at the time. They had helped to protect her from the many machinations going on at the time and had been almost wiped out when her enemies had moved against her – which may well have prompted Mother Tree to lash out at those traitorous dragons.

Firetail had hatched early in the Fourth Age and had served Regal Flame with exceptional loyalty, following her into battle many times, even into combat against the Catastrophes. He lacked the power to contest them in battle, but he was exceptionally good with communication magic. He had served a vital role, helping to coordinate her forces.

When Soulseeker had launched his attack, Firetail had been wounded almost to death defending Regal Flame and had only fled when she had ordered him to go and send for help. Knowing how skilled he was with communication magic, Soulseeker's followers had chased him mercilessly. He had lost a wing, a leg, and an eye, but he had managed to reach out to Doomwing.

And then Doomwing had come, and Soulseeker and his followers had died.

Firetail had been mostly healed, and Regal Flame had given him the position of herald in recognition of his efforts and loyalty. Ordinarily, the dragons that followed her might have complained about a drake being given such an illustrious position, but none had objected. How could they? He had proven himself again during the Sixth Catastrophe. Despite many turning against their own friends and allies, his loyalty had remained unshaken.

Alas, he was a drake, and he had yet to succeed in furthering his Ascension due to damage he had suffered at Soulseeker's hands. That he had survived at all against a primordial dragon was impressive, but those particular wounds had never healed. As a result, time had caught up with him, and he was now an old drake, slow in the air and frail of limb. Yet he remained Regal Flame's herald and likely would until the day he passed, in recognition of his deeds and loyalty.

"You have a young one with you this time," Firetail said. "Shall we show him the monuments?"

"The monuments?" Squallwing perked up. "What monuments?"

"I shall take that as a yes." Firetail turned. "Follow me, young dragon. Hmm… would you be one of Stormbringer's? You have her look about you."

Squallwing puffed out his chest, pleased to be compared to his grandmother. "She is my grandmother."

Firetail led them to the opposite edge of the plateau where a number of monuments awaited them. The first was a simple column with an orb atop it. The next was a stylised tree with an orb tangled in the branches. The third was a winged serpent with an orb clutched in its mouth while the fourth was a hooded man holding an orb in his hands. The fifth was like the first, a simple column with an orb on it.

"These are monuments to the Ages and the Catastrophes," Firetail explained. "Each orb contains information about the Ages and the Catastrophes that can be displayed via a powerful illusion. The events of each Age and the events that led to each Catastrophe are recorded, as are all the great deeds and important moments. Those who gave their lives in battle are also noted, as are those who accomplished great and worthy things."

"Why are the first and fifth monuments just pillars, and where is the sixth monument?" Squallwing asked. Clever hatchling. He'd noticed those details right away.

"The First Catastrophe was the Broken God." Frostfang fought a shudder as he spoke the name, and both Firetail and Squallwing visibly flinched. "His name alone carries power although merely speaking it is more unsettling than truly harmful. However, Dreamsong advised against ever creating anything in his likeness. He is dead, but even the shadows of dead things may linger in the deep dreaming, and the fewer dream of him, the better. The second, third, and fourth orbs may offer you glimpses of the foes we faced. They too linger in the deep dreaming, but they either lack the strength of our most ancient foe or the raw hate and hostility he possessed. Likewise, you will never see a depiction of the Exiled Star. It was through dreams that he was called to our world, and I've no desire to see if more dreams might summon another like him."

"And the sixth monument?"

"Who do you think made these monuments?" Frostfang asked. "If you're not sure, go ahead and examine them. The answer will become clear."

Squallwing stepped forward, and his analytical magic reached out to the monuments. "The craftsmanship is exquisite – alchemy of a level that I can scarcely comprehend what I'm seeing at all. The same goes for the magic in each orb – impossible power and complexity combined with efficiency. There are so many different forms of magic woven into each monument… each one of them is a masterpiece." He snarled. "I wish I was more skilled. It's so far beyond me that I can't really learn anything at all from it." He frowned. "It must have taken a team of our finest mages to make these."

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

"It took only a single dragon," Frostfang replied.

"Oh!" Squallwing understood at once. "So Doomwing made these."

"Yes. He made them during the Sixth Age but before the Sixth Catastrophe. He wanted to wait until he had the skill to make monuments that would stand the test of time as this plateau has. If you activate the orb for the Second Age, you will find that he lists the good deeds that Mother Tree and her followers were responsible for. There were many who objected to that, but he insisted."

"But wasn't she our enemy?" Squallwing asked.

"She and her followers were our opponents, not our enemies – or so Doomwing said when we asked him." Frostfang gave a low rumble. "He reminded us of the many good things that she and her followers did before they turned against us. When we were at our weakest at the end of the First Age, it was she who sheltered us and helped us recover. To forget all of that – to act as though she was nothing more than some evil foe to be struck down… he could not abide by that."

Squallwing was silent. Finally, he spoke. "Grandmother never speaks about Mother Tree."

"She was fond of her," Frostfang replied. "So I do not blame her. But none were fonder of Mother Tree than Doomwing and Regal Flame, and it was they who pushed for her good deeds to be included. As for the sixth monument, you likely already know this, but Doomwing was in no condition to add it after the defeat of the Sixth Catastrophe."

Privately, Frostfang wondered if Doomwing would memorialise the Sixth Catastrophe in the same way he had Mother Tree. They had been friends, so would he seek to include her good deeds alongside her eventually evil?

"What about the fourth monument?" Squallwing asked. "Why conceal his features with the hood?"

"Ah." Frostfang laughed. "That is a less sorrowful matter. The Fourth Catastrophe was a mad vampire… who happened to bear a remarkable resemblance to one of Doomwing's friends." In truth, Marcus was the son of the Fourth Catastrophe, so the resemblance was hardly surprising.

"Ah." Squallwing nodded. "It would be unfortunate if people confused his friend with the Fourth Catastrophe…"

They talked for a while longer. Squallwing was an eager student, and Firetail had many details of his own to add. The young dragon seemed to have no problems with the fire drake despite his unfortunate past, and the fire drake appeared to be quite pleased to meet someone so eager to know more about the plateau and its history.

However, Firetail brought the conversation to a close as he turned to the west. "My lady draws near," he said. "It would be best to meet her at the centre of the plateau." He nodded at Squallwing. "Your grandmother is likely less formal than my lady. Allow Frostfang to speak and speak only when spoken to."

Squallwing nodded. "Thank you for the advice."

And so they went to the centre of the plateau to await Regal Flame.

They did not have to wait long, and Frostfang was reminded once again of why Regal Flame was so often hailed as the most magnificent of all living dragons.

It was already late afternoon, and she flew in with the westering sun on her back. In that deepening pre-dusk light, her scales seemed to be made of leaping flames. Yet as she drew nearer, the dark oranges and deep yellows gave way to the colour of freshly spilt blood. She landed graceful nearby, so smoothly that it was difficult to tell where flight ended and walking began.

Her body was perfectly proportioned for a combination of speed and strength, and her movements hinted at immense power wielded with utter precision. The heat radiating from her was stifling, enough so that Frostfang released a little of his own cold to keep Squallwing and Firetail from retreating to a safer distance.

A ghost of a smile cross her lips at that, and she dipped her head in thanks before reaching out to nudge Firetail with her snout. Given the disparity in size – she was roughly a mile long whilst Firetail was a mere seven hundred feet in length – she could easily have crushed him. Yet her touch was full of fond affection and mindful of his frailty. The heat within her banked, and Frostfang allowed his own cold to fade as well. It was a testament to her control, really. Left unchecked, the heat within her could easily have set both Firetail and Squallwing ablaze.

Her gaze went from him to Squallwing, and the younger dragon shifted restlessly. It was hard to blame him. Her eyes were a blue that belonged neither to the sea nor the sky but to that place of myth and dream beyond the ever-distant horizon where the two became one. Those were eyes that had never forgotten the glories of the past but still hoped to surpass them in the future.

"It has been some time since we last spoke, Frostfang." Her voice was gentle, like a campfire, but he knew well that if the need arose it could turn sharp and terrible, like a wildfire consuming everything in its path. "And you've brought someone else with you, I see."

Other dragons were landing around them, members of her court, so to speak. Frostfang paid them no mind. Not only would Regal Flame never order them to attack unless provoked but also none of them were a threat to him except her.

"A grandson of Stormbringer. His name is Squallwing, and he has come here fresh from his first proper hunt with a gift for you." He took out the worm Squallwing had slain and laid it out before her.

"Is that so?" Regal Flame's attention went from the worm to Squallwing. The young dragon barely managed to keep from quailing beneath her scrutiny even as a low murmur spread amongst some of the dragon around them. No doubt, they thought it ridiculous that a dragon of his age and size had only just engaged in his first proper hunt, never mind the absurdity of presenting a mere worm to Regal Flame.

Yet Frostfang was not worried. He knew what sort of dragon she was, as did Firetail who gave Squallwing a reassuring smile.

"I had heard that Stormbringer had a grandson named Squallwing. The rumours say that he is a weakling and a coward." Squallwing's expression fell, but Regal Flame pressed on. "However, it would seem those rumours were false. I do not see a coward before me, and weakness need not last forever." She took the worm and stored it with her magic. "I accept your gift in the spirit it was meant, young dragon. Your grandmother has spoken of you to me, and it is good to see that you are making progress. There is much you can learn from Frostfang. Pay close attention to his lessons, and you will do well."

Squallwing bowed his head. "Thank you! I will do my best!"

Regal Flame turned her attention to Frostfang. "You came here to trade, Frostfang. What is it that you desire?"

The dragons she had brought with her would likely have no say in their negotiations. They were younger dragons, so she had probably brought them along to observe how negotiations should be conducted. It would not do for any of her followers to conduct themselves poorly in the future.

"I seek to capture a fragment of your flame in this." Frostfang took out the crystal he had taken from his hoard. It was a rare treasure indeed – the heart of a mountain he had obtained from dwarves during the Fourth Age for an exorbitant sum. It was one of the only things in the world that could hope to contain the raging flames of an inferno dragon, so they could be used for alchemical purposes. However, it still required the cooperation of the inferno dragon since binding even a fragment of their flame into the crystal would be impossible without the utmost precision and control on their behalf. Naturally, for the purposes he intended, the more powerful the flame the better – and there was no dragon alive whose flame was mightier than Regal Flame's.

"That… is not something to be lightly given." Like him, Regal Flame understood just how powerful her flames were from an alchemical perspective. They could be used to create all manner of horrific weapons… or to help craft a catalyst that would help his mate achieve her Fourth Awakening. "For what purpose do you seek my flame?"

"To help my mate achieve her Fourth Awakening," Frostfang replied.

"Is that so?" Regal Flame tilted her head to the side. "I thought she was a dragon of ice and cold." Her eyes widened, and she smiled sunnily. "Ah, yes, it slipped my mind, but you had hatchlings recently, didn't you?"

"Yes," Frostfang replied proudly. "Three of them. A daughter and two sons."

"Then you have my congratulations," Regal Flame replied. "Hatchlings are to be cherished and celebrated – and to have three is good fortune indeed!"

"I consider myself blessed," Frostfang replied.

"I shall prepare gifts for them," Regal Flame promised. "But… your mate?"

"Yes, she is a dragon of ice and cold. However, I have spoken to Doomwing, and he has proposed the creation of a catalyst that will help her achieve her Fourth Awakening. The captured flames of a dragon belonging to the fire dragon lineage are essential, and there are no flames more potent than yours."

"Doomwing?" Regal Flame blinked. "Doomwing proposed the catalyst you speak of?"

"Yes." Frostfang paused. "Is that… bad?"

"Not at all. I had heard that he had stirred from his slumber, but he has never stayed awaked for long."

"It is different this time," Frostfang replied. "His injuries are healed, and he has no intention of returning to his slumber. Instead, he has been developing his territory."

"Developing his territory?" Regal Flame's noble expression had slipped and given way to an expression of obvious interest. "What do you mean?" The question was accompanied by more murmuring from the dragons around them. Doomwing was well known, but he had a reputation for being fairly aloof.

"He means to create a kingdom, I think. I don't know the details, but he has been training a human, and he has added dwarves and a dryad to his realm."

Regal Flame's eyes gleamed like sapphires, and she bared her teeth. "That is good to hear. I had feared… after his wounds… yes. He has shown his ability to lead against the Catastrophes, so it is only fitting that he turn it toward developing his territory. I have no doubt that he shall succeed."

He could sense her eagerness to learn more, but he needed to get the conversation back on track. "About your flame?"

"Ah. Yes." Regal Flame cleared her throat. "If Doomwing is the one creating the catalyst, then I have no doubt it shall succeed. He is not one to promise things beyond his power. However… what you ask for is no small thing. I shall need something of equal value. Yes, I know just the thing. In fact, it was something that Doomwing also suggested."

That piqued Frostfang's interest – as did Firetail's reaction. The drake now doing his best to bite back a wince. "By all means, tell me what you would like."

"I too possess the heart of a mountain. I will need to capture a fragment of your cold within it." Regal Flame chuckled. "Fitting, isn't it? Doomwing suggested it as a possible cure to the problems faced by my herald."

"My lady, you need not –"

Regal Flame cut Firetail off with a look. "When Soulseeker wounded Firetail, he burnt his very soul. Only Dawnscale could have healed such a wound, and she has been gone for some time." There was a hint of genuine ice in her voice when she spoke the other female dragon's name. "However, Doomwing advised me that it was possible that the injury would settle with time, allowing a different treatment to be tried. What better way to deal with a burnt soul than with ice so cold it can freeze the soul itself?"

Frostfang chuckled. Was this why Doomwing had suggested seeking out Regal Flame? It had only been a passing remark, but Frostfang had committed it to memory, knowing that Doomwing would never mention another primordial dragon without good cause. "Such a trade would be agreeable to me."

"My lady!" Firetail said, bowing deeply. "Please, forgive me, but I must interject! This trade… I… I cannot abide it! He seeks aid in his mate's Fourth Awakening. Such aid is valuable indeed. To trade your help to assist me? Surely, you could ask for something more fitting. Besides, even if the damage to my soul is healed, there is no guarantee that I will be able to continue my Ascension!"

Regal Flame chuckled. "You underestimate yourself, old friend. You have been by my side for some time now, and I have never doubted your loyalty or the quality of your counsel. Perhaps the cure will fail, or perhaps you will be unable to Ascend further even after being cured, but who are you to judge if any trade is fair? I rule here, so I am the one who judges what is fair – and I judge such a trade to be well worth it." She glanced past him to the other dragons who had gathered. "Are there any who would disagree?"

There were none.

"I shall trade my flame for your cold," Regal Flame said. "However, I ask that you stay for a few days. Since it is for your mate, I wish to be absolutely sure that the item is prepared to the very best of my ability."

"I shall gladly do the same for your item," Frostfang replied. He glanced at Squallwing. "Would it be possible for him to copy a few books that you have? He comes on behalf of his grandmother."

"Ah. I do owe her a few small favours. That is acceptable." Regal Flame's gaze locked onto Frostfang. "I know your domain is to the far north. Did Doomwing contact you with his mirror, or has he devised some other method?"

"He has devised another method," Frostfang said. "In fact, he recently gave me an item that makes communication far easier. Even my hatchlings would be able to reach him with ease."

"Is that so?" Regal Flame's voice was deceptively calm. "How interesting. I have yet to receive such an item."

Frostfang realised his mistake. "I am sure you shall receive one soon. He had to… customise it to better suit my needs. I am sure he is doing the same with yours."

Regal Flame made a happy sound. "Perhaps. He has always been thoughtful in his own way, and it would be good to speak to him more, now that he is properly awake." She scowled faintly. "I had offered to watch over him while he slumbered to repay him for the aid he gave me in my time of need, but he refused."

Doomwing had always been reluctant to let others see him in a weakened state, and his volcano was perhaps the most heavily fortified place in the world. Besides, he knew well how many relied on Regal Flame. He would not have wanted her to abandon her duties while her people needed her in the aftermath of the Sixth Catastrophe.

"He has his pride," Frostfang said. "And he knew that you were needed here."

"Perhaps," Regal Flame replied. "But now that things have settled a bit, I may be able to find the time to visit. I would like to see what he has done with his domain."