Ithea found herself back in her usual perch, high up in the sky trees. With eyes closed, it appeared she was resting. Yet, that couldn’t be further from the truth…

“I must say, she does look like you– Probably shares your temperament as well. How would you rate the speed of her growth? Wait, no. Don’t answer that, your observations are always so crude and wrong.”

Ithea felt an eye twitch as she struggled to ignore the incessant commentary. She wanted nothing more than to strangle her ‘guest.’

“Hmm. Born from a larger egg, I estimate four months old… Maybe closer to five? Her scales look healthy. Her wings look strong and I see no deformities. A healthy spec–”

Ithea had enough. “Would you shut up?! Actually, why are you here?”

“Rude… And I’ve already told you why I am here. If I hadn’t known you for so long, I would have wondered if you were mentally deficient–”

Her hand shot out, reaching and grasping a small dragon by the neck. “Yarnel…” she seethed. “I will murder you.”

Yarnel was barely as long as her arm, and only about two feet tall at the shoulders. His wings were thin, nearly see-through, and his scales sparkled like brilliant crystals in the sunlight.

Typical fucking pixie dragon… They were known to be inquisitive, but even Yarnel was a cut above the rest of his kind– If only because he was the last one left.

“Oh please,” he said unphased, even as she tightened her grip around him. “I’ve known you for far too long. I know what you are capable of, and I’ve developed counters.”

The air grew cold around them, but Yarnel simply held out a clawed hand. An instant later, a crystal appeared in it. “Please, don’t be foolish, Ithea.”

The crystal flashed and he was gone–

“Anyway, my notes are in safe hands. I no longer worry about them. However, I am now curious about her.” The small dragon reappeared next to Ithea and pointed down towards Zira.

“Well, not just her. What was the other’s name? Kyrith? He is fascinating too. Oh, and four eggs about to hatch? My timing couldn’t have been more perfect!”

A tome popped into existence on the other side of him, floating. A quill began frantically scribbling in notes. All the while, Yarnel moved back to commentating his observations.

Ithea made a decision. If she stayed up here any longer, she would absolutely follow up on her threat. Thankfully, Yarnel was more interested in observing than actually interacting with anyone.

He won’t follow me down…

Standing up, she took a single step off the large branch.

Keeping a certain grace, she landed on the ground and quickly dusted herself off. Her attention turned towards her daughter.

Zira was a couple dozen yards away, laying in the shade. Ithea could tell her daughter was mulling something over, the frustration alone was plain to see. And she hasn’t noticed me yet.

In the blink of an eye, she was suddenly next to the other dragon.

“Hmm, what’s got you upset?” she asked as Zira registered her presence.

Her daughter didn’t immediately answer, and instead seemed to be regarding her. Finally, after a few moments Zira responded.

“Impeccable timing… Actually, I was contemplating on finding you.”

“Oh?” That caused Ithea to raise an eyebrow. “What for?”

Another pause. Zira used the time to rise to her feet.

“I want to learn how to transform,” she answered.

It was Ithea’s turn to consider the other dragon, her daughter…

“Why? You’ve never shown any interest, so why?”

Zira’s gaze drifted towards the hatchery. “Because, our bond was separated for a short time… I don’t ever want to be away from Felix.”

Something separated their bond? I’ve never– Fea. Ithea narrowed her eyes. “And you think being able to change your form would somehow solve this?”

Zira nodded. “I know it won't stop something like that again, but it made me realize there are places I can’t go. Not as I am right now. Can you help, or should I ask that small dragon up there.” She pointed her snout up towards the canopy.

“Who is he anyway, and why is he staring at me?” Zira wrinkled her snout. “His magic tastes weird…”

Ithea snorted. “Trust me, you don’t want to know. In fact, it’s probably for the best if you pretend he doesn’t exist.”

Zira turned her attention back to Ithea. “And here I thought he was a friend of yours…” She let out a toothy smile.

“Hardly,” Ithea waved her hand dismissively. “If he weren’t so important, I would’ve murdered him centuries ago. I still might, however…”

She cleared her throat. “Anyway, about transforming. I’ve got some bad news for you, you can’t– Or rather, you shouldn’t.”

“And why not?!” Zira almost shouted and dropped her smile.

“Because, my beloved child–” Ithea let a little smirk cross her lips, meanwhile her daughter let out a warning growl. “–It's the same reason I have not taught you any real magic: You are too young. You shouldn’t be using your little void breath either.”

Zira stared down at her, challenging her. “Don’t ever call me that. You might’ve made peace with Felix, but not with me.”

Ithea shrugged. “I meant nothing by it, but a simple tease–”

“What do you mean I’m too young?” Zira asked, cutting her off.

“I was getting to that… You already know you need magic in order to grow. But ask yourself; do you wish to stunt your growth? Do you want to be strong enough for Felix to ride on your back?

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“Because, if you do, you cannot learn to transform. The requirements would be too great as you are. There is a reason I mainly stay in this form.” Ithea gestured to herself.

Zira was starting to cool off, if only by a little. “Why is that?”

She opened her mouth to answer, however a familiar voice interjected. Gods damn it, Yarnel…

“Because, you are physically changing your form. It requires a great amount of magic to compress your natural body. It is highly unstable as well, and why only much older dragons such as Ithea or I might try it.”

Ithea spun around to find the pixie dragon floating just above and behind her. “What happened to observing?” she asked, letting her displeasure show.

“I couldn’t help but overhear the conversation. Besides, your daughter–”

“I am not her daughter.”

“–Already spotted me. There was no point in hiding.” Yarnel finished his explanation, completely ignoring Zira’s interruption.

He floated past Ithea and came closer to Zira. “If had to estimate, you would need at least a few decades–”

“A few decades!? That’s… That’s too long!” Zira shouted.

Yarnel pulled back, shaking his head. “Hmm, she is definitely your daughter. So loud and noisy…”

“I told you, I’m not her daughter!” There was a pause before Zira spoke again. “Who are you?”

Ithea gave her daughter a rare, apologetic look. Well, you wanted to know who he was… I guess now you’ll find out.

“Ah, forgive me…” The pixie dragon gave a bow.

“I am the ancient and great inventor, Yarnel.”

----------------------------------------

Tal walked down the grand corridor that made up only a small portion of the palace. Ornate doors, more tapestries, and marble passed by; reflecting the opulence and history of the estate.

Yet, hidden behind those doors, forgotten by the epics depicted within the heraldry, were dark secrets. Secrets that were lost to time.

Tal walked, flanked by guards. Like a captive prince, he was both needed and untrusted. It frustrated him, knowing how lowly the world thought of him. Even as they celebrated his victory.

Such is the fate of the Champion.

All day and night, Tal had waited for the High Prophet’s summons. All day and night, it never came. It was only after midday, after staying up into the godless hours of the night, that the High Prophet finally called.

They came to a sudden stop, the guards wordlessly filed around an innocuous door. With their positions taken, Tal was left to stand there. No instructions were given, no words of encouragement, nothing. Just the cold stares of the men.

He knew what to do, however. His premonition showed him the way forward.

Slowly approaching the door, Tal stopped and raised a hand. With a simple knock at the door, he waited. The High Prophet would call him in.

“Come in,” he heard. The voice was faint, muted by the door.

Tal opened it and stepped in.

The room he found himself in was a library, only one of many within the palace. However, this one was special, at least the lack of opulence suggested that. Yes, grand bookcases towered over him. But their worn and dusty look was not what one would think of being in the palace.

The entire room was in a state of disuse.

Tasting the mildew of age and mold, Tal strode forth, passing by row upon row of bookcases. Listening, looking, for the one who called upon him.

“Over here,” the voice said from his right.

Stopping, he looked to the sound of the voice. Standing between two of the bookcases was the High Prophet.

The pious man was staring up at one of the shelves, his hands behind his back. Garbed in his traditional white robes, the wrinkling face lowered and turned, meeting Tal’s gaze.

“My apologies, Child– Ah, I suppose you are no longer that. My apologies, Champion. I had meant to call upon you sooner, however…” The High Prophet let out a tired sigh, it only amplified his age.

“But recent events took precedence.”

Recent events?

Realizing he was staring, Tal quickly kneeled. “It is of no consequence, your Holiness. Your Champion is always ready to serve.”

A soft laughter came from the High Prophet. “Please, rise. There is no need for all the pomp. You’ve earned it.”

Tal rose as the pious man continued. “I called upon you and had you brought here, solely because it was private. No one would dare listen in to our conversation.”

A hint of confusion slipped into Tal’s expression. His premonition hadn’t warned him about any spies. Though, it wasn’t entirely impossible. His blessing wasn’t fool proof and intent mattered. Still, it had been acting up since his arrival to the palace…

It hadn’t warned me about this meeting. Not until a few minutes before the guards entered my room. Perhaps his Holiness has some sort of protection? I should tread carefully…

“As you wish, your–” Tal was stopped by the High Prophet shaking his head.

“Like I said, there is no need for all the pomp. Please call me, Father or Father Gabriel. I shall call you, Brother Tal.”

Stunned by such a request, it took him several moments to recover. “As you wish, your– Father Gabriel.”

“Better. Now, Brother Tal, come here. I wish to show you something.” The High Prophet turned away and began a slow walk to the other end of the library. Tal followed quietly.

Bookshelf after bookshelf, Tal only now started to realize the size of the library. It was deceptively large, possibly one of the largest rooms in the palace.

But why is it in such disrepair? He asked himself, noting that even the floor had a layer of dust.

“This is one of the oldest libraries in all of the Holy Triumphant. Some of the tomes contained here existed long before the Eon of Struggles. As such, you must forgive the mess. It is forbidden for most to enter here,” The High Prophet explained, as if reading his mind.

“I…see– I mean, I understand, Father Gabriel.” That earned a chortle from the pious man.

“Do you? The texts that surround us are worth more than the combined wealth of our Holy Lands. Our Lord is its gatekeeper, even I had to prove myself worthy. No one has been here in nearly a century.”

“Oh.” It was all he could say.

“Indeed, Brother Tal.”

They made it to the other side, finding a large table and plenty of chairs. Behind them, hanging on a section of the wall, was a map. Expertly drawn and full of expensive colors, it was like most things within the palace, ornate.

However, something was off about it. Tal felt holy flux emanate out from it.

“This is what I wanted to show you, Brother Tal. It is the most complete map in all the Holy Lands.”

“May I approach it, Father?” he asked cautiously. The question sparked his premonition, warning him.

“Of course.”

With the unsettling feeling in his gut, he made a careful approach and stopped right before the map. The holy flux seemed to almost whisper to him…

Who do you seek?

Startled, Tal jumped back. “W-what?!” He whipped around to the High Prophet.

“Go on, think of the person,” His Holiness encouraged with an amused smile.

Swallowing, Tal nodded and faced the map again. He could feel the whispering flux as he reapproached.

Who do you seek?

Tal closed his eyes and thought about the question. Who should I say?

He first thought of someone from his family, however… He saw the unfamiliar man standing above him, looking down from a pile of bodies.

Felix.

With a shudder, Tal felt the flux pull from his own reserve. A moment later, he opened his eyes and stared.

Upon the map, a glowing blue dot formed.