It was impossible to tell what time it was down there, but they pretended it was morning and rested for the entire day. Dominic created simple meals for them to eat—some which tasted and looked kind of questionable—while Aster mumbled “Ignore it…ignore it…” to himself every time one popped into existence.

Once the boy had eaten his fill and satisfied his three-day hunger, he promptly yawned, then knocked out on the floor beside the pedestal. Hearing him snore softly in the background was calming.

Dominic stood and walked over to Mars, who was still dressed like Marion. She was sketching the murals that were painted on the ceiling of the pavilion, the sound of her pencil echoing rhythmically through the room.

“Mars,” he called.

She smiled, but kept her eyes glued to the paintings.

“Yes, my boy?”

“Is there a way to break the barrier around Hesia?”

That made her turn to him. She thought for a moment, then shook her head.

“No,” she answered. “Not right now, at least.”

“You can’t do it?”

She chuckled, looking back to her journal.

“Oh, I can do anything. But this is a matter of whether or not I will. And I won’t.”

“May I ask why?”

“Didn’t I tell you when we first came in?” she responded. “I love this world in all its forms.”

“Even with two halves completely cut off from each other?” Dominic asked.

“Even so,” she replied. “It may be a little disappointing, but I am the world itself.”

Her eyes met Dominic’s, and they flashed gold for a moment. She smiled wryly.

“I am its equal, not its lord.”

“How can you not be its lord?” he asked. “You said you could do anything.”

Mars chuckled.

“Think about it, Dominic,” she said. “The barrier was made by human hands. I could tear it down, but so could you. There is nothing in the world I cannot do, but there is nothing in the world that can’t eventually be done by mortal men either. Will that make you all the lords of this world?”

She looked back down to her journal, the sound of her sketching resuming slowly.

“You are all a part of this world, and I am the culmination of all of you. It will be possible, someday, to tear that barrier down, Dominic—maybe even soon. But I will not be the one to do it. My actions are meaningless without all of you.”

On her page, a sweeping scene in black and white unfolded—a huge, lizard-like dragon standing at the summit of a mountain, wings unfolded and snout stretched towards the heavens. He stared for a moment at it, her pencil adding new details with every stroke and scribble, then glanced up to her face.

“If it’s not possible to break the barrier yet,” he said, “then is there any way to cross it?”

“Hm…”

She tapped the end of her pencil against her chin in thought.

“Do you mean, specifically, to physically go across it?” she asked. “Or simply to end up on the other side?”

“Either option is fine.”

“Then, I’d say both are possible,” she replied, “but one is unrealistic.”

She went back to sketching, speaking as she drew.

“You can physically go across without any hindrance,” she said. “No man-made magic barrier could stop my children. But in that case, only you would be able to leave. And it’d be terribly inconvenient to cross the ocean alone. On the other hand, if you don’t need to physically walk across it, then you can use gates.”

That caught his attention.

“Gates?” he repeated. “Like the ones they use to travel between cities?”

She nodded.

“Exactly like those. The Ashans deactivated all the ones leading between continents, of course, when they prepared to put up the barrier, but they missed a few. Specifically…”

She tapped her finger on the drawing in her notebook.

“…they missed the ones inside the lairs of dragons.”

That fierce, black and white lizard glared back. A thought slowly dawned on him.

“Because the dragons went into hiding,” he said, remembering his conversation with Set.

She nodded.

“And a dragon in hiding will never be found.”

“Was that the reason?” he asked. “They went into hiding so that the Ashans wouldn’t find the last few gates?”

In one way, it made sense, but he also felt like that wasn’t all to it. If they had concealed the gates for that reason, then they would have mobilized to use them by now. But there had been no movement in neither Vaine nor Hesia from dragons in the last thousand years.

“At first it was like that,” she said. “But when the barrier really went up, they were forced into hibernation. Do you remember how humans lost their power at the same time?”

“I do.”

“When I made dragons, I made them both part demon and part human. So when humans lost their ability to live off their mana, so, partially, did the dragons.”

“Then the dragons have been weakened?” Dominic presumed.

“More than weakened. The only reason they haven’t died yet is because I never gave them the ability to do so.”

That made him pause. Even if a dragon was part human, it wouldn’t be a huge amount. It shouldn't have affected their lifespans that greatly, unless they had already outlived their time.

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“How old were the dragons when this happened?” he asked.

“Oh, maybe a few million years?”

His jaw dropped. He had expected something like ten thousand, max. A few million? That was beyond comprehensible history. It was no wonder they’d gone out of commission immediately after humans lost their power.

“Is there any way to revive them?”

Mars looked up at him, then smiled.

“You could do it,” she said.

“What?”

“You could make them new bodies,” she explained. “I was the one who made them with the power of creation to begin with. You could do the same. Their souls are still very much alive. All they need is a vessel.”

Dominic frowned.

“I think the body of a dragon is a little bit harder to make than an apple,” he said.

“Of course,” she agreed, nodding, “but you could do it, one day. You have that power.”

He was quiet, his gaze wandering away from her. Even if she assured him of it, it was hard to believe. He could only make things he had a good grasp on, things that he understood. Basic materials like dirt and water were easy to create. Food he’d eaten or cooked before was workable. In the best case, though he hadn’t tried it before, he might even be able to make part of a human body—as a healer, he was familiar with it. But a dragon was beyond unknown territory.

Dominic tried picturing it. He remembered the engravings and paintings depicting that lizard-like shape. Two wings on its back, wider and thinner than the Ashans drew them, almost like a bat’s. A strange coloration: bluish-black on its sides and back, a creamy white on its belly. A body so large it would make the earth tremble with each step.

He frowned and shook his head. He couldn’t do it; it was all too abstract. It was like trying to draw someone he had never seen before. If he wanted to make a dragon, he’d first have to meet one.

His gaze landed back on the staircase that wound around the center of the pavilion, leading down into darkness.

“Is there a gate in this lair?” he asked.

Mars glanced up at him, a mischievous smile spreading on her face.

“Go look?” she suggested.

He paused, then snorted.

“Fine,” he conceded. “We’ll go look after resting.”

∞

After roughly another half a day’s time, Aster finally got up from his semi-comatose sleep, and they began organizing their meager things. There wasn’t much, just a few leftover food rations and the bag to bring them in. Marion packed her journal and held her lantern in her hands as they approached the beginning of the staircase.

The chamber itself had never felt cold, despite how far underground they were, but the air wafting up from below was undeniably chilly. It was thick with mana, ancient and unwelcoming. Even Aster, who wasn’t sensitive to these things, felt it.

“Brother,” he said, “what is this place?”

Dominic hesitated for a moment. Telling him what it really was would be hard to believe so suddenly, but at the same time, he knew the boy deserved to know the truth. He had followed him, despite his fears, all the way here.

“It’s a dragon’s lair,” he answered.

Aster’s eyes widened, but he didn’t speak.

“Are you surprised?” Dominic asked.

“…Yes,” he replied, “but somehow…”

He gulped, staring down into the darkness.

“…it doesn’t feel like it could be anything else.”

Dominic smiled wryly. That was certainly true. The air coming from below was so dense with the scent of magic that it felt intimidating just to breathe it. And it must have been far harder for Aster to deal with than it was for him.

“Will you still follow me?” he asked.

Aster gave him a look, then chuckled.

“That’s a given,” he replied. “There’s no place in the world safer than by my brother’s side. Even if it’s a dragon’s lair.”

He grinned cheekily.

“So let’s get going before I get hungry again.”

Dominic sighed in resignation and looked forward. They stepped down together. There were no sudden traps sprung—the stairs remained cold, unmoving, and safe. However, after going a little further, he realized that there had been no sound of footsteps following behind them.

He turned, looking to Mars, who was still standing at the top of the stairs.

“You’re not coming?” he asked.

Suddenly, a dead silence fell upon the entire space. He knew instinctively what had happened. For a moment, in this chamber, she had stopped time from flowing. Everything had frozen, even Aster, stuck mid-stride, foot floating.

Mars smiled softly.

“No,” she responded.

Dominic slowly moved back up the steps again, approaching her.

“Why not?” he asked.

“I already know everything there is to know about my dragons,” she replied. “I don’t need to return to the lair.”

“Will you be waiting out here when we come out?”

She shook her head. Dominic frowned. Even though he knew divinity could be fickle, even though he had felt from the beginning that she would not stay long, even if he had lived ten years alone without her, part of him still wished that she’d remain by his side, even if just for another hour. Even if he couldn’t ask that of a god.

“The dragon down there…” she said. “They may not be my children, but perhaps they are something like that. I love them dearly. Take care of them for me, please.”

She took his hand, squeezing it tight.

“The one here, his name is Largo,” she continued. “He is the eldest, and the most devout.”

The look on her face was nostalgic, and almost sad.

“He has been waiting for you for a long time.”

Dominic was quiet for a moment, then brought her hand up and pressed her fingers to his forehead.

“I will take care of him,” he replied, “so would you stay for a little longer?”

She stared at him, then burst into tears. Mars changed immediately, returning to her black-haired, golden-eyed form, and threw her arms around his neck.

“Oh, my son,” she said, pulling him close, his face buried in her shoulder, “I am going nowhere.”

Tears streamed down her face, wetting his clothes, her embrace desperately tight.

“Didn’t I tell you? I am everything. The earth, the wind, the sky, the water, the trees that blow so warmly with the breeze through summer. All of it. It has been hard, I know. But I have never left you, not once.”

He let her mana wash over him, that scent that reminded him of the ocean, the shore, everything at the same time. It was mana in its purest form, her entire body made of it, the soft palms that held him no more than a creation built with magic—no more than one, simple manifestation of all of Denea. What was here was no more special than the tiles under his feet, the pools outside the pavilion, the pile of rocks that was once Kali. And yet it was so difficult to let it go.

She held his face in her hands, staring into his eyes.

“There is love in the world, my son. I swear.”

Dominic layered his palm over hers.

“But the trees don’t speak,” he said.

“Why don’t they?” Mars replied, smiling. “Listen closely. Lean into their embrace.”

He paused, then chuckled dryly to himself. She was so determined to leave, but at the same time so determined to stay. She was full of contradictions, but so was the world. Perhaps it was fitting for her to be that way.

“If I call for you, will you appear again one day?” Dominic asked.

“If you need me, of course I will come.”

He was still hesitant to let go. Mars knew it and pulled him closer, pressing her lips softly to his forehead.

“I love you, my child,” she whispered. “Remember that.”

“I’ve never forgotten.”

Not since the first time they met ten years ago, not once. If he had forgotten, he wouldn’t have made it this far.

“Thank you.”

Mars stepped back, tears still glistening on her cheeks, and met his eyes again. It was a little strange seeing a face that resembled his with that kind of expression. He never cried. She smiled softly, then suddenly disappeared into a wisp of smoke. It floated there, for a moment almost forming the shape of a black nightingale—staring at him with those shining eyes. And then in the next second, a wind blew through and swept it all away.

The sound of Aster finally completing his step echoed behind him.

“Brother?” the boy called, voice echoing through the room which now felt much emptier. “What’re you doing up there?”

Dominic turned and stepped down onto the staircase again.

“Nothing,” he replied. “Marion’s not coming with us.”

Aster frowned and tilted his head in confusion.

“Marion?” he asked. “Who’s that?”

Dominic froze with his lips parted, then shut his mouth and shook his head.

“Nothing,” he said. “Let’s get going.”