The pit was deep, and with the unknown things possibly at the bottom of it, Kaz and Li didn’t dare fly down quickly. Instead, Li glided as much as possible, flying in tight circles by making minute adjustments of her wings, then flapping a few times to drop as far as they could see in Kaz’s ki-light.

This was only possible because she didn’t quite grow to her largest size, which in turn made it more difficult to carry Kaz. He even tried to make himself smaller so he would be less of a burden to the dragon, but found that his self-image was deeply rooted in the size that he was, and he couldn’t hold onto a smaller image for long enough to have an effect.

Eventually, though, Kaz’s light reflected back to them in a way that indicated something had changed below them. There were glints of red in it, for one thing, but it also seemed to spread out more, rather than the light being reflected from the dark, perfectly-smooth walls.

Kaz said silently, wary of alerting anyone or anything that might be below. He’d suggested this before, but Li threatened to drop him down the hole if he mentioned it again. Now, though, he was fairly certain he would survive the fall, even if she followed through on the threat.

Li said stubbornly, though even her mental voice was tired. With the constant drain on her ki, she hadn’t been able to gather her strength, and she simply wasn’t used to bearing weight while she flew. Add to that the difficult maneuvers she’d been forced to make, and she was physically and mentally exhausted.

Kaz sighed, considering simply sliding off her back, but as soon as the thought occurred to him, Li dropped precipitously, folding in her wings so she almost scraped his shoulder against the wall as she did so. He had no doubt that it was intentional, and abandoned the idea.

Soon enough, they saw what had caused the change in lighting, and Kaz was glad he hadn’t tried to jump. The pit continued on, and he probably would have fallen right past this level, and then had to catch himself by digging his claws into the wall so he could climb back up. That would have been embarrassing, to say the least, and there was no doubt Li would tell the story with relish as soon as they were reunited with their friends.

Li, on the other hand, was able to glide easily to a landing on the white-tiled floors, though it wasn’t her most graceful landing ever. The gleaming tiles were so hard even her claws couldn’t dig into them, and she spun slightly before coming to rest. Her wings instantly slumped, though she managed to keep her head up as she stared around with fascination.

They stood in what had to be the central connection of the seven caverns used for dragon eggs. If the caverns the hoyi now occupied were originally sized for the xiyi, then these were definitely dragon-sized. Kaz was fairly certain that even Qiangde could have walked through this space at his full size and not have had to bend his head.

Around them, seven well-lit caverns split away. These, too, were so large that Kaz couldn’t think of them as tunnels, even though they were long and relatively narrow. The ceilings were so high overhead that it was difficult to make out the complex patterns of ki-stones, and the walls were so far apart that any dragon could have spread their wings without touching both sides.

The caverns themselves stretched far beyond Kaz’s light, but he remembered what they looked like from seeing them through the table above. Now that he truly understood the scale of the place, those caverns had to stretch for miles, and just through the closest opening, he could see the first of the alcoves where eggs would have been placed.

Li was staring at that alcove, but Kaz was frozen, looking around at the carvings and paintings that covered every inch of the walls here in the heart of this place. They mostly showed dragons, but there were a few xiyi as well, though they were all relatively tiny and depicted caring for eggs. The dragons were of all colors and sizes, including a few who were as golden as Li. But of course Qiangde stood largest and grandest of them all, his outstretched wings occupying most of one vast section of the wall. And he was white, with eyes like amethysts.

Kaz supposed it shouldn’t have been a surprise, not with Lianhua’s coloring and the way she described paintings of the first emperor, but somehow it was. Qiangde was beautiful, with a long, delicate body, a curving neck, and a tail that wrapped around and through the ki-crystals that had been used to mark the design on the walls. His expression was calm and wise, and long tendrils like whiskers seemed to float in the air around his snout. How could something that looked so pure have been so selfish and evil?

Li reminded him, pressing her head against his arm.

“She was,” he admitted. All of the Magmablade females were, with their long, powerful bodies and thick, shining red fur. Even the aged and bent Sika still held a sort of grace he didn’t usually associate with elders. Perhaps their beauty was part of the reason they continued to get away with their evil deeds. Who could believe that such a broken and twisted mind lurked behind such a lovely countenance?

Kaz shook his head, tearing his eyes away from Qiangde to look at the rest of the figures depicted in what he now realized was a magnificent carving that had been painted to seem as if those it portrayed might almost step out from the wall and return to life.

There were more than a dozen other dragons shown there, though seven of them stood out in particular. Each of these seemed to touch one of the archways leading into the egg caverns, and Kaz wondered if they were the leaders of some subsidiary tribe - flight? - of dragons whose eggs would be kept there.

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Li shook herself, and as she did so, she shrank just a little, seeming to find it easier to move when she was smaller. She lifted her wings from their drooping positions and settled them into place on her back, then walked toward a small group of painted dragons with bright golden scales.

she asked, staring up at them, then peering curiously into the cavern ahead.

Kaz walked over until he stood beside her, which put the image of Qiangde at his back. Even though he knew the dragon emperor was long dead, knowing even an image of him was just out of sight made his shoulder-blades itch.

“It’s possible,” Kaz said, resting his hand on Li’s neck. Her head was almost level with his at this size, and when she turned to look at him, their eyes met, and their noses touched. They both froze, and then Kaz moved back just an inch or so, shifting away from the contact.

Coughing slightly, Kaz said, “I think it’s just as likely that your ancestors were dragons who hadn’t joined Qiangde’s court, though. We know your parents took good care of their nest and young, which tells me the curse runes may not have had a firm grip on them. We don’t know exactly what happened to the eggs that were here when Qiangde died, though I suspect the xiyi took at least some with them, but many…may not have made it out of the mountain.”

This was an uncomfortable thought, but a very real possibility. The xiyi had killed as many of the adult dragons as they could in their attempt to escape, but from Kaz’s interactions with them, he didn’t think they would have murdered the young. On the other paw, the xiyi hadn’t had any more warning than the dragons that Qiangde was about to force any creature with a significant amount of dragon blood from the mountain, so they wouldn’t have had time to grab eggs or hatchlings.

The curse was passed down from the parents, but surely there had to be other dragons in the world, including some who didn’t bear that curse. But over time, as the two groups interbred, the curse would spread, possibly resulting in some dragons in whom the curse was weaker, thanks to not having been reinforced so many times or from both sides of their heritage.

Li’s eyes moved again to the cavern beyond the archway, where they could see the first alcove only fifteen feet away. It was larger than the ones above, clearly designed to hold a bigger egg, and it stood empty. The one next to it was empty as well, but after that, shadows began to creep in, and it was more difficult to tell.

Li said, and he could feel that she was ready to insist if he resisted. She was right, though. Even if they might learn things that would only make Li more unhappy, they needed to find a proper set of stairs or a way out other than the pit behind them. Kaz was growing more and more certain that the only thing they would find at the bottom of that hole was the great lake filled with monsters.

Together, the two walked past alcove after alcove. Every one was identical and empty, which was honestly a great relief. Seeing silent and forgotten eggs or the skeletons of long-dead hatchlings might have been more than Li could bear.

Li asked as they finally reached the end of this branch of the cavern system without seeing any sign of an exit or any dragons.

Kaz shook his head, but paused, staring at the closest alcove. It, like all the others, held a softly glowing pattern of ki-crystals that illuminated the curved receptacle below. He hadn’t really questioned why the things even existed, but Li was right. Her parents certainly hadn’t attempted to carve egg-niches from the walls of their cave. They had built a nest of metal, used their own bodies to provide warmth, and fed the hatchlings ki-rich food as soon as they were born. This whole system was unnatural.

Stepping closer, Kaz cautiously ran his hand along the curve of the hollow space at the bottom of the alcove. He held his own ki in, feeling instead the ki of the stones that had been set in place around the inside of the carved opening. Warmth instantly enveloped his hand, and ki touched his flesh in a gentle but powerful flow.

“I think this is designed to make sure the dragonling inside the egg received the perfect amount of heat and ki. There’s a little Water, which keeps the air moist, and Fire to keep it warm. Wood to help them grow, and Earth…maybe to make sure that growth is steady? I’m not sure why the Metal is there, but it might be in hopes of encouraging the young ones to develop-”

He broke off, his eyes widening. “Qiangde was trying to breed for dragons born with all five types of ki. This system would make sure that not only did the eggs have perfect conditions for hatching, but their developing cores would be exposed to all the elements. He was trying to create a race of Divine Beasts.”

Li asked, eyeing the glowing niche.

Kaz pulled back his hand, shaking it absently. It felt like it was humming with ki that wasn’t his own, and he didn’t like the feeling. “I never would have thought he could create a whole new species, but he did it at least three times. Or at least his servants did. Who knows what else they were doing here, and how well it might have succeeded.”

Li said dubiously. She stopped, but Kaz knew what she was thinking about. She, herself, never would have hatched if Kaz hadn’t flooded her egg with ki. Even then, she might not have survived if there hadn’t been a Sacred Plum in his pack for her to eat. How many wild dragons died in their eggs or shortly after hatching, and would they have survived if their eggs were placed in one of these alcoves?

“Do you want to have eggs?” Kaz asked, trying not to show how much the answer mattered to him.

Li replied promptly.

A bit of weight lifted from Kaz’s shoulders. Soon he would have to talk to her about these things, but not yet. Not until he was done with Nucai, one way or the other. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them to do otherwise.

“Well, we have six more caverns to explore,” he said, turning back to face the long distance they had already traversed once.

Li sighed, then seemed to swell as she grew to her largest size. Dipping her shoulder, she offered Kaz her back. she said.