“Come.” The robin ordered. It fanned its wings, gliding ahead.

Myra’s favorite messengers were an anxiety rousing sight. Old Isla, a stocky woman known for her unnatural grip, bludgeoned one to death with a log when it asked for her daughter.

No more than an hour later, a cloud of caws and feathers and teeth descended, tearing away until only a red splotch they never managed to scrub from the docks proved she ever lived.

Isla took three more of the things with her, and Kade would likely do better, but “devoured alive” wasn’t his preferred headstone inscription. He walked.

Most claims curled around themselves, presenting a challenge for unwanted visitors to enter or leave. Myra’s was no exception.

Branches and larger specimens of the threaded purple vines made up the sky. Bulbs hung from some like organic chandeliers, glowing faintly.

It wasn't marshland, but the soil clung to his feet. Wide bladed ferns posed a smattering of healthy hues against the more unnatural plants. They journeyed past flowers larger than a man where more birds ate at something sweet-smelling within. A herd of stags with antlers of silver crossed their path.

Through it all, Kade’s guide only flapped its wings a few times, never losing altitude. It was almost like an invisible cord kept it aloft.

The mutated fauna was one thing, but there was a glaring absence of true monsters to be found. Were there not pikeflies or basilisks under Myra’s command? There wasn’t even an ooze shuffling for detritus beneath the brush.

Now that he was in the thick of it, mana swirled over his secondsight, painting everything in undertones of hazy red until he was able to acclimatize, he felt like an ant aware of the looming eyes of a giant. Myra certainly had enough arcane weight to enthrall legions of the realm's most dangerous entities.

If the Shrouded Crescent knew the place to be virtually defenceless, a swarm of daft or desperate hirelings would arrive in the time it took for a particularly heavy bag of coins to drop.

He could see the greasy swanks drinking wine in a cozy study. They would sign off on several dozen souls saying, “Surely it can’t torch all of them.” and sleep just fine the night after.

His involvement in the guild made him complicit to some degree, but he didn’t like to think about that.

Their destination was a mound of red bark braided up to emulate a mountain. Carved into its face was a gate fit for a fortress. It groaned open on approach.

The interior reminded him of the once-great throne rooms that characterized Vecnan ruins. A tattered banner on the far wall displayed the likeness of a four winged creature Kade didn’t recognize. Pillars rose skyward, but were overgrown with unmanicured vegetation, being made of living wood like the rest of the claim.

Just enough was done to keep the space clean for a dias covered by a gold and blue cushion upon which the dragon snored.

She rested belly up, one forelimb across her black, backswept horns while the other hung over a carpet that probably used to be a lighter shade of purple.

An uncomfortable moment passed before the robin waddled up to gingerly peck at her nose.

“Mrgrgr?”

She blinked open lazy yellow eyes. Then, as if remembering herself, she twisted upright with practiced deftness.

Kade felt snubbed. It was like having a firing squad show up in pajamas missing bullets for their guns.

It took some serious willpower to keep the tinge of scorn from showing, but years of waiting hand and foot on people that could sink his future with a single word lended quite the poker face.  

Myra lifted her chin at him. “I see that you are empty handed,” She said. Left unacknoledged, was the image of her napping with a dopey smile on her face mere seconds ago. He wasn't going to bring it up, not with the grim nature of 

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The head of Seeker Amos, one of the guild’s elite. That was the price for his freedom, posted only a month ago. Long after Kade's anxiety over a catch evaporated. The timing of the request wasn't without precedent; sometimes it paid for one's agents to not know the nature of their task until it was time to do it. The Shrouded Crescent advocated for such tactics itself. More flexibilty, less dirt. Myra wanted an assassin iced by a member of his own guild. 

But Kade liked Amos. He was one of the few members of the Shrouded Crescent to teach him useful spellwork without first demanding that the initiate complete eleven miscellaneous tasks out of ten.

“Yes, I-”

“Spare me the facade.” Myra, who was the size of a bus and half again, bounded toward him.

Whatever bit of indignation his fragile ego nurtured died in its crib right then.

“I am wise to the true reason you so brazenly entered my domain. Why you didn’t hide or flee at the mention of my name.

“That lost crest burns within you, I feel its damnable presence. The mark of so-called heroes. The Shrouded Crescent taught you to bring its power to bear.”

Myra curled her snout into a grin. “And now you would see the names of your house and guild restored to their former glory.”

The robin wisely darted for the open gate.

“What say you, foolish child of man? Do you believe the stale blood of your forefathers a ward against me? I am the One with Ruby Scales! Tyrant Invictus! I am Myra, the very visage of doom!”

Air screamed against the force of her wings like a mountain summit. The flare of a growing flame spilled from jaws half-parted.

Kade fell on his butt. Lurk was one of just three spells he could cast without an incantation; perfect for sneaking past monsters and looking over unsuspecting shoulders in the dark.

Without any deep natural shade or the cover of a starless night, it looked like a transparent blue cloak wrapped tightly around his cowering form and hid him just as well. 

He expected a sharp, searing pain before the embrace of oblivion. Instead, the room just warmed a bit.

Kade unducked, removed his hands from the top of his head, and dared a glance upwards.

A gout of mana-laden ash shot out either side of Myra's snout with a long-suffering sigh.

“What are you doing? Have you not resolved to challenge me?”

“No! Absolutely not! I came here to beg! I couldn’t bring myself to kill Amos, he’s a decent guy, but my flops are my own, you should only punish me.”

Kade raised himself on wobbling knees. “I know metal shaping! And I can stitch wounds! I can be immensely useful. Or you can just kill me. Don’t go after my people. Please.”

Myra narrowed her eyes.

“Are you Kade Dusklight?” She spoke the words through mana, through the stuff of souls.

A cord of lightning leapt through Kade’s heart. Glory, candor, elan. One million voices, all greater than he would ever be, forced his response, “I am.”

For the briefest of moments, he was more than a man. Be it his will, the fury of storms would kneel. Then the sensation ebbed, leaving a slight buzz along his fingertips.”

“Your crest, It’s dormant,” Myra said.

“The guild tried to get it working for years without success. Of course there was the option to forcibly ignite it, but that has what? A sixty percent chance of turning you into a vegetable?”

“And you didn’t take it?”

“Hell no!”

“Ugh.” The ground shook as she slumped. “The Dusklight Crest skips seven generations only to settle for a sane inheritor.”

“You were trying to set up a bout.”

“Indeed. Your crest carries an inherent resistance to dragonkind. With appropriate care, I wouldn't break you with a single gout of flames. It'd be fun.”

The way she so casually spoke of the matter thwarted him for a time. It took several uneven attempts for him to find his voice. “That’s Immoral. I'm not a toy.”

While he believed in his heart that people ought to be decent to one another, some nuts thought that power came with the inherent shackle of responsibility. That those who would violate it were an exception to the rule. Kade wasn’t one of them.

Most acts of altruism were a selfish form of selflessness. Horde too much; or worse, cause enough trouble, and the destitute tended to look very hard at their pitchforks. Myra didn't have that problem. There was no mob large enough, or entity powerful enough, to check her.  

Kade closed his mouth. To an elder red, humanity might as well be a box of dolls. 

He tried a different approach. “What would you have done if I killed Amos?”

“You wouldn't.” Oversure, but she was right.

Another thing bothered Kade even more. The poor condition of the claim, the apathy in Myra’s voice now that whatever plan she had was fouled up.

She bore the same expression that plagued Liam. Tired, but it cut deeper than that. Her face was one of a rebel without sedition. A painter without a canvas. The mote of sympathy welling up left him aghast. But he could use it, perhaps.

“There’s no light in your eyes.” Kade started. “The Coalition won’t fight you because it knows it can’t win, you won’t conquer the land because you know you can’t lose. You can take or create whatever you want, so nothing means anything anymore. You’re de-”

“Yes, Dusklight. I am bored out of my mind!.” She dragged the last word out like a whining child.