Werd stepped in the Ancestor’s Cave. Instantly the wind from outside seemed distant, even though the Ork was barely a few feet from its ravaging touch. He pushed further past the entrance to drag the sled with Dura’Mon inside.

The drag on the bottom of the wooden sled increased when the ground transitioned from snow to stone, but Werd continued forwards nonetheless, the leather cords tight in his grip. Slowly, he brought the entire sled inside the Ancestor’s Cave, then dropped his burden.

Werd slumped against the wall of the cave’s mouth for a moment, catching his breath and warming his chapped hands. He did a once over of the mid sized cave, about eight strides wide. He chuckled once when he saw that his breath didn’t even fog here. No wonder even the ancestor’s had thought this place was sacred.

Forcing himself back to his feet after a minute, Werd let out a sigh and examined the state of his companion Dragon once more before the ritual. Once he entered the chamber with the World Well, there would be no turning back.

Dura’Mon was quivering even now out of the cold, Werd’s companion taking short, shallow breaths. His long, white scaled appendages shook slightly with each one, but Werd had already given the Dragon all the care he could.

Except this.

Once again, Werd grabbed up the leather cords he used to pull the sled, and trundled deeper into the cave.

Moss started to appear on the rough stone walls, moisture condensing into droplets of dew atop the greenery. On the ceiling too, as water dripped down on Werd from above, pooling into puddles to stomp through.

The cave widened out into a more open chamber, with different artifacts from the various Despato over the ages decorating the walls and corners. Werd absently noticed Abatui’s infamous headdress atop an ornate pedestal. Still, his route never faltered.

Werd walked past the history of his people and into the chamber beyond, pulling Dura’mon with him. Inside, there was only one object of note.

The World Well.

Werd couldn’t describe it. Its nature was indescribable, constantly shifting its existence except for the constant outpouring of energy radiating from its center. Abundant, multihued and ever changing, the energy was mana, the lifeblood of the world, the underpinning of reality.

The Well made a pleasant humming sound, along with possessing a strange scent. One so faint that without an Ork’s acute olfactory sense it would be impossible to pick it up. It smelled of honey and wet wood, oddly enough.

Here, where the mana entered the physical realm, Orks had bonded to their companions for centuries. More drakes had been born in this room than anywhere else, but today, something different would take place. Something new, and dangerous.

Werd gently lifted the lithe frame of the Dragon from the makeshift sled, and laid him out directly in front of the shifting edge of the World Well. They would need its overflowing energies to power the connection they would be attempting to form. Werd himself took a position not far from Dura’Mon, off to his side and also uncomfortably close to the Well.

The Ork rested his left hand on the Dragon’s flank, and then mentally formed his Shaping Space. The Space extended slightly past his reach, surrounded as always by a thin strip of light blue that always reminded Werd of his friend the cold.

Readying himself for what was to come, Werd seized his authority. With a force of will, he Shaped it into a singular spike. Wielding it towards where he imagined his hand to be, Werd stabbed through his Space with the Shaped authority.

There was a moment for Werd to see Dura’Mon flinch from the connection, then he was out of time. A brief flash of intense pain was followed by a blessed release as Werd fainted and entered the Bonding.

* * * * *

He was mad. Mother had punished him again. Why, he didn’t know. He lamented that fact as his tail thumped against the wall in anger.

There was no light while he was being punished. Very little sound. The mana in the atmosphere was sickly and thin. It made him hungry, and then angry, like he was now.

Letting loose a screech, Dura’Mon tried to flare his wings but could not with the low ceiling of the punishment chamber. The small confines enraged him further and he began to bash his head against the walls.

“Mother!”

His shouted echoed loudly, caught in the small chamber. It would not matter, his mother would know. That she didn’t answer him, did not mean she was unaware he was calling.

“Mother!”

Still, he remained in the darkness. His rage boiled further over.

“Mother!”

“Yes, my love. Have you finally learned your lesson?”

The whisper of his mothers voice trickled straight into his mind.

“Fight me! Fight me now! Why am I punished?” Dura’Mon shouted.

“Oh.”

“Let me free! Let me out!”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

His only reply were the echoes of his own plea in the punishment chamber. Then, even they faded away. Silence reigned. He felt defeated, and curled up to sleep.

Just as he settled down, the chamber disappeared. The sun blared out above him. Now, Dura’Mon was in free fall over the slopes. Free. His cackling laughter tumbled over the mountainside, along with his wing beats.

“Thank you mother! Thank you!”

“Don’t thank me yet. You haven’t gotten everything you asked for, Dura’Mon. You will shortly.”

Dura’Mon felt something new when mother said that. A chill ran down his back that had nothing to do with the wind.

“Mother..?”

Then, the sun was blocked again. He looked up and saw his mother’s claws descending. He didn’t have time to react as he was knocked down towards the slopes below.

The snow started falling alongside him. It didn’t feel like mother was playing with him as he plummeted. It felt like… she wanted to hurt him. Dura’Mon was afraid of what mother was doing.

“Mother, why are you-”

“Isn’t this what you wanted? A fight?” The wind whispered ominously in his ear.

Only then did Dura’Mon finally hit the ground. The impact knocked the breath from his breast, and the Dragon took a few wheezing breaths in an attempt to recover. Then, he pushed himself to four shaking feet.

Mother was coiled all around him, encircling the valley with her bulk. Great white scales as big as he was covered her form. Dura’Mon felt a panic settle of him, and he abandoned thought. Now was the time to act.

He beat his aching wings and took off at mother, raking her sides desperately with tooth and claw. Dura’Mon twisted and scrapped and fought as best he could. Sparks flew as he drew the length of his claws across a scale.

It did nothing. Around them, the storm grew ever deeper. He wasn’t done yet though. Blasting off of mother, he aimed himself on a collision course for her head. He didn’t see the tail, just its shadow.

Then he was down on the ground once again. This time Dura’Mon didn’t think he would recover. He whimpered one last thing before everything faded to black.

“Mother…”

* * * * *

Werd didn’t see, preoccupied with the visions of Dura’Mon’s exile, but the Dragon was undergoing a change. As the waves of mana emanated from the World Well, Dura’Mon’s body eagerly absorbed its natural nourishment.

This fed his healing rate, festering wounds closing over the surface of his body. The mana sustained the creation of the Companion Bond, and the memories the two of them were sharing. The Dragon was now seeing Werd’s own journey to this point, learning his perspective.

That Werd too had felt the injustice of Dura’Mon’s situation, gave them a mutual appreciation, and ignited something in the Dragon. A spark became a blaze, and as it caught, it burned the pristine white of his scales a dark, singed red.

His healing was finished, but his transformation was not. The energy continued to flow into Dura’Mon, accelerating his growth. What had been lithe and lean quickly gained multitudes of muscle mass. His tail grew another five feet, spines along his back extending further. The newly reddened scales gained small barbs.

Finally, everything settled, and Dura’Mon awoke for a brief second. All he had the strength to do was open one eye, and take a look at his new Companion.

The Dragon noted that the Ork was taller than he had seemed, with wider shoulders than the memories of climbing the Uruyuld would suggest. Then, the Dragon let himself rest, the comforting presence of his Companion beside him.

* * * * *

“Hmm. I’d like to say he looks an awful lot like me, just quite a bit younger, obviously.” The Emperor Regent said.

Ainne gazed curiously at her father, and tried to imagine what a younger version of him might look like. A boy with gray eyes, and black hair. Maybe her brother even had her father’s cheekbones, like her. He noticed her scrutiny, and began posing for her, thrusting his jaw out.

“Oh stop it.” Ainne complained with a smile.

He laughed for a moment, before his smile went sombre. Ainne could tell he was thinking of her half-sibling.

“He seems like a good young man.” The Emperor said at last.

“I’d like to meet him.” Ainne said, a rare slip of her control.

Her father looked sad while she said that, but quickly forced himself to smile again. Once again, Ainne saw through to his inner thoughts.

“Yes, with any luck, you will.”

Ainne understood the pain in her father’s words, and searched for a way to change the topic. Thankfully, that was when the chamberlain informed them of the ball’s beginning.

“Your holinesses, your glorious presence will soon be expected in the main showroom.” The older man said after he did a formal bow.

“Well, I guess that’s our queue.” Her father said, his tone rapidly shifting.

Ainne wanted to comfort him, but no longer had the opportunity. Instead, the two of them made their way through the grand corridor’s, across the Capitol Castle. The gauche decorations ramped up the closer they drew to the more public sections of the castle.

Plaster busts and friezes that depicted Emperors and Empresses of generations past, alongside the Popes, Grand Priests and Saints of the Church. Standard fare, and all faces that Ainne had memorized years ago at this point in her education.

She ignored them all, striding past the irrelevant reminders. Today was about Ainne, and that meant her mother wouldn’t be the only one demanding perfection. The other noble families would all be in attendance, and all be looking for weakness amongst the Holy Family. Ainne would be under a magnifying glass, and although she was not looking forward to the occasion Ainne was prepared.

Her posture was flawless and her makeup pristine. Ainne wore a flowing red lace silken dress, of a cut that modestly covered her neckline. She was expected to be powerful and perfect, but also young and modest. It was a maddening set of double standards to live up to, but Ainne had persevered so far, meticulously towing the line since her introduction to court at six years of age.

By now, it was habit.

Still, Ainne minutely adjusted her left sleeve as she walked, and puckered her lips slightly. After all, her education had also taught her that change was inevitable, so instead Ainne simply prepared and adjusted. As her mother had taught her.

The Empress awaited them before the royal entrance, the sounds of merriment commencing past the burnt orange drapes behind her.

“Presentable. Come, let us show the nobles our family united.”

Her father joined to her mother’s left, leaving a space between them for Ainne. After all, she was the star today. Joining them, the Holy Family walked past the hanging drapes to the ballroom beyond.

It was a grand hall, with wide, gilded pillars and a high vaulted ceiling. The assorted peerage buzzed about, greeting each other and testing the value of the information that was available to obtain.

The Family entered atop a special terrace designated for their exclusive use. A thick railing connected to staircases that led downwards in both directions to the floor. At their side, a herald announced their presence to the assembly.

“Esteemed guests, it is my great honor and privilege to welcome the Luminous Empress herself, alongside the Emperor Regent, and tonight’s maiden of honor, the Holy Princess and newest Champion of the Empire, Ainne Elia Lumina!”

A warm scattering of applause broke out at the herald’s words, but Ainne didn’t feel any loyalty in the gazes of the nobles looking up at them. She saw calculation, and greed. In some, she even saw fear.

Ainne stepped beyond her parents, as today she would be expected to address the nobles herself. There was a small table with a glass of wine for her to hold aloft, which she promptly grabbed before beginning her toast.

“Thank you all for coming out to this celebration of our next generation. Now let me proceed.”

“I will not be meek. I intend to lead the next generation from the front, as Champion, Holy Princess, and eventually the Luminous Empress. The holy light of Luminos leads me forward, and I shall follow it to the glory of our Empire.”

“Today, however, is a day to celebrate what we have already achieved. We already have the greatest nation on the continent of Psykuri. We have the warriors of the north, the ports of the south, and the great fields of the central territory. We have food aplenty, gold overfilling our coffers, and elixirs to keep us healthy.”

“Here is to what we have. Here is to the Empire.” Ainne said, raising her glass.

The nobles around the room mirrored her actions, and together they drank. Ainne subtly glanced down the stem of her glass at the collection of guests, trying to place important faces she should visit first.

Noting a couple of the attendees, Ainne struggled not to show her annoyance. She really did not want to have to play hostess to a couple of the heirs of the Archdukedoms. Ainne set her wine down half finished, and walked over, ready to play politics.