“Careful now! Up a little higher!”

The Temple District of Milagre was even busier than usual on Temple Day. There were the usual crowds of people gathered here, moving throughout the streets on the way to and from their respective temples. There were those high followers, priests, and High Priests calling out to the crowd, offering advice, summons, and blessings. As it was the first Temple Day since the war had been declared over and the King reported dead, there were many offerings to be made, many prayers of thanks to be given.

But to add to the chaos, a new temple was being created. The centerpiece, a large stone statue that served as an altar, had already been transported to the site and placed atop a magnificently carved wooden dais. The statue depicted a man wearing long tattered robes, raising a scythe high. At his feet was the skull of a dragon, to celebrate his crowning achievement. It was a statue, of course, to Bora Bora Ciayol, newly ascended God of Dragons.

There were already a fair few followers to support the god’s cause, picked from the survivors of Bahamut’s followers. As their Champion in life, Bora Bora had commanded their respect, and they were all too willing to worship him as they had once worshiped the platinum dragon. Then there was the trickle of new followers, mainly the soldiers who had seen him in action. They had witnessed him killing Mathadiel and Tiamat and remembered the awe and terror of his ascension.

The construction had no shortage of volunteers, and so was nearly complete, only a week after the war’s end. The army had flocked back to the capital with exultation, carrying the first stories and songs of the new god’s prowess. They had offered their services to his High Priest, and work was started. Now all that remained was the roof, which was in itself to be a memorial of the old dragon. A smaller statue was set aside, ready to mount. For now, it was the support beam.

“You did good work on that.”

Samuel, who stood across the street surveying the construction efforts, looked around. He saw his friend Tobi and smiled faintly. The warrior was in a pitiable state, hobbling along on crutches and with many thick bandages over the body. He’d been too weak after his headlong rush into the Mitene Union’s ranks, so healing spells were considered too dangerous. Tobi had chosen to allow time to heal his wounds, or to put it in his terms, the natural way. He returned Samuel’s smile, only the faintest sign of pain showing on his face.

“Thanks,” Samuel said. They stood in companionable silence for several minutes, staring at the beam. Even in the bright sunlight of midday, the shimmer of magic was visible on the beam of the building. In fact, it was present in the entire structure. Samuel had been a part of the entire construction process, laying powerful enchantments on the building from the ground up. “I wanted to make sure it couldn’t be torn down again.”

“An admirable sentiment,” Tobi observed. He shifted his weight a bit awkwardly, drawing in a sharp breath as pain racked his body. “A mark of respect as well, I presume?”

Samuel nodded in confirmation. “Not every day a mortal man kills two elder monsters in a single day. Without him, the army might have perished that day.”

“There are still many lost.”

“Yes.” Samuel let out a long sigh. “But it’s over, and now we can rebuild.”

He turned his head slightly to survey Tobi out of the corner of his eyes. The man, he couldn’t think of him as a youth anymore, seemed to have a heavy burden lifted off his shoulders. Despite the crutches, he stood a little straighter. Samuel knew why, of course. With the return of his father, he had more support. In addition, his efforts in the battle had earned both himself and Issho-Ni a considerable amount of prestige. They were given more authority after the fight, and their reach had expanded.

“Where is Shigeru now?” Samuel asked as the question occurred to him. “I’m guessing he’s with your men now, whipping them into shape?”

Tobi let out a laugh at that, and only slightly seemed to regret it. “Not much left to do on that front, I’m afraid. But he’s acting Captain while my injuries heal.”

“Not much left to do?” Samuel asked, his eyebrows raised. “Where did all that confidence come from?”

“It’s always been there. You just haven’t looked properly.”

Samuel let out a snort of laughter and turned to face the temple once more. After a few more minutes of silence, he spoke again. “The ritual for Jakob is done?”

The brief shadow of pain and grief crossed over his friends, though Samuel didn’t see it. “Yes. Aki and Noda’s families are on their way as well. I hope I can offer them some peace.”

“You already have,” Samuel assured him. “You and your father took them in, and you trained them for a noble purpose. They died with honor, and won’t be forgotten.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Tobi growled. “They were excellent fighters.”

“Yet another thing you can be proud of.”

More silence followed. The large beam had been settled properly now, and men were already swarming up the face of the building, laying down the stone tiles that would offer some protection. These shingles also shimmered faintly in the direct sunlight, each piece bearing a single rune of Samuel’s creation. Nobody but an Ancient could harm that building now, Samuel thought. He couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride in his work, considering how much effort he’d put into the building. The temple would be finished by day’s end, he realized. It was customary for the followers of other gods to offer their help, and this made the work smoother.

“How is His Majesty handling his new job?” Tobi asked. “I imagine he’s drowning in paperwork.”

“Paperwork and well wishes for his reign,” Samuel replied with a laugh. Aren Gorteau had already confessed his quickly draining patience to Samuel on several occasions. Samuel felt for him, knowing how the man preferred his tomes and studies to making royal decisions and decrees. “But he’s our only option, at least until his son comes of age.”

“True,” Tobi agreed. He took a deep breath, then let it out in his long sigh. “What of the Prime Magus duties? Surely he cannot do both jobs.”

“Ah,” Samuel said. Suddenly, his voice was quiet, as if he didn’t want to discuss this subject. “Well, he certainly tried to. But with the final examinations coming, he doesn’t have the time.”

“You’re doing that now, I assume.”

It was a reasonable assumption, and Samuel nodded confirmation without speaking on it. Strictly speaking, the post was traditionally held by a member of the Royal Family, or else a sufficiently skilled mage that reported directly to them. Aren had been quick to abolish this tradition, however. He’d said that he trusted nobody else with the responsibility, right before handing it off. Samuel rather thought Aren had been waiting for an excuse to appoint him to the position, and accepted with a weary sort of resignation.

“It’s strange,” he reflected aloud. “On the one hand, I feel as if I’ve lived a thousand years already, and on the other, it feels like mere months ago Arcana spoke to me in a dream, telling me to come and find him.”

“It’s been a short time for you,” Tobi interjected. “But to the rest of us, you’re an old man already.”

That made them both burst out laughing, and it was a few minutes before they could recover themselves enough to continue. Wiping his eyes with one hand, Samuel shook his head ruefully. “My dream was always to wander the world in search of mysteries and legends. I’d write a book of my travels, and pass away at a ripe old age, a successful author.”

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Well, you’ve definitely achieved that. How else will you spend the rest of your years, I wonder?”

A wry grin touched Samuel’s face at the thought.”I’m far from done. There are still many mysteries for me to explore in the world. After I sort out the final examinations, I’m setting off again. This time I’ll head for Knireth.”

“Knireth?” Tobi asked, shock showing plainly on his face. “What on earth could you find there?”

“That’s just the point,” Samuel said with a slight shrug. “I don’t know. There could be any number of interesting mysteries to occupy my time there.”

“Well, I imagine you’ll enjoy that,” Tobi said after a pause. He sighed again. “I’m not sure how I feel about these times, Samuel.”

“Well, Aren is strong,” Samuel said. “He’s got a level head on his shoulder. Much less prone to exploding than his older brother.”

Tobi opened his mouth to comment further, but a commotion behind them made him stop. Both turned, seeing what the raised voices could be. The crowd was hurriedly moving to the sides, letting two figures pass without trouble. It was a man and a woman, both powerfully built. They wore heavy armor and had the look of toughness about them. Their skin was slightly greyed, though not to the degree of unhealthy, and had an almost… scale-like appearance. They were quite young, Samuel noticed, though they carried themselves with a quiet sort of confidence. He got the sense at once that these two strangers would grow to be quite extraordinary.

The sister, who looked to be a tad older, perhaps nearing her twentieth year, stopped just in front of Samuel and Tobi. She clamped one fist to her chest in salute and nodded her head in welcome. “It is an honor to meet you, Lord Bragg. And you as well, Master Tokugawa.”

Samuel of course was used to people knowing who he was, but he didn’t recognize the pair. Still, manners were manners. He returned the young woman’s greeting. “The pleasure is mine. Pardon my brusqueness, but who are you?”

“My name is Piana Ciayol,” The woman said. The family name registered as a shock through the watching crowd. Just today, it was a famous name. She waved a lazy hand to indicate her companion. “This is my younger brother, Atlas.”

“Are you related to the late lord Ciayol?” Tobi asked, his eyes narrowed. “A cousin, perhaps? I was not aware that he’d sired any children.”

“We are his only children,” Piana said solemnly. “We have come to take command of his living followers, to ensure his legacy.”

“Who is your mother?” Samuel asked. He kept his voice cool and friendly, but he felt a spark of tension in the air. The followers around them, those who had been in the service of Bahamut, were visibly troubled by her claim.

“The Ancient dragon Khanmara,” Piana said smoothly. “Shortly before the Tyrant Queen laid waste to Bahamut’s temple, our father lay with her, and we are born of that union.”

“You seem quite, err, older than one would expect,” Samuel replied, one eyebrow raised. “You’d be barely a week or two old.”

“That is true,” Atlas said, speaking for the first time. His voice had a slight sibilance to it. It wasn’t as pronounced as Bora Bora’s had been, but it was a marked similarity. “Perhaps there is something we can do to prove our claim.”

Samuel hesitated, glancing around him to the angry faces of Bora Bora’s current followers. These strange siblings, while they may have the look of Bora Bora about them, were making a very adamant claim. Their faces were stubborn as they stared down the muttering people. Samuel knew that this situation could turn nasty quickly. If they weren’t who they claimed to be, then they might be drawn into a fight that resulted in dozens of dead followers. Worse, if their claims were true, but they didn’t prove true, then they could end up marking the start of Bora Bora’s reign with bad blood.

He met Atlas’ eyes and nodded once. The young man rolled his shoulders back as if stretching and a pair of tattered black wings flared out from his back. They were nearly twelve feet in length and were unmistakably draconic in appearance. Half a second behind him, Piana copied his actions, exposing a slightly smaller pair of wings, though made of golden feathers and rainbow scales. Atlas’ wings were clearly identical to those that Bora Bora had earned towards the end of his life.

“Khanmara,” Samuel said softly. The name was faintly familiar to him, though he couldn’t be sure where he’d heard it. “It has a ring of familiarity to it.”

“You met her in the fight against Mathadiel, Lord Bragg,” Piana said. “She rushed to defend our father.”

“Of course,” Samuel thought. He remembered the dragon clearly, and looking at Piana’s wings once more, he realized that they were identical. “I imagine your mother is quite proud of how you turned out.”

“But how have you grown so fast?” Tobi asked. “And what is this power I sense coming off of you? It feels like Divine Magic, but also something that I’ve never encountered.”

“We do not know this answer, Master Tokguawa,” Atlas replied. “We only know that we are born of the union between a Divine and the oldest of the dragons.”

“Well, the evidence is certainly overwhelming,” Samuel said. He glanced around to see that the other followers of the various temples looked faintly surprised. They turned to him as he moved as if waiting for him to make the final decision. “I believe their claim is legitimate.”

The short war was over now, Grimr thought. Settling himself down in the hollow that was his home, he let out a long sigh. That fight to save Samuel and draw out the corruption that was consuming him was possibly the most exhausting task he’d ever taken on. He offered a silent prayer of thanks to the Mother for bringing the young Ancient into the world. Little Isip might have created every part of him, but it was through the Mother’s grace that this was made possible.

You know you cannot survive this much corruption.

I know, he thought, wishing the voice inside would silence itself. It had the voice of Neratas, his late older brother, but he knew it was Corruption speaking. His body and soul were nearly half corruption now, a level that no other Ancient had survived. Neratas and even Menikos had succumbed to the corruption. Grimr caught himself wondering how Samuel could have survived his ordeal since he now carried nearly as much Chaos as he did Corruption. The ancient enemies of Ahya may be a distant memory, but the smallest of their seeds could grow to destroy his home if left unchecked.

“Are you unwell, Lord Grimr?”

A face appeared, blocking the stream of sunlight that had shined, uninterrupted, down onto his face. Here in the Elder’s Grove, it was the only place to catch a hint of sun. Everywhere else in the depths of the forest was dark, faint light coming from magical lights that floated freely. Grimr glanced up, noting the tanned face and shining green eyes.

“I’m just a little tired, Arwinn,” he said. “It has been a very long day.”

“Several days, my lord,” Arwinn corrected him. The once corrupted Druid had been healed when Grimr defeated his older brother. Instead of killing him, Grimr had granted him a second chance at life. After a century, even his pale skin had receded, leaving the naturally dark skin of those elves who lived under the sun. He wondered idly how the man had known that he was unwell. As if sensing the silent question, Arwinn smiled.

“You look the same,” he said. When Grimr arched one eyebrow, wanting him to elaborate, he obliged. “When the Corruption began to take him, my lord. He was exhausted, and his skin began to pale. You have the same marks, as well.”

Grimr glanced down at his arm. Sure enough, his veins were blackened, a clear sign that the Corruption was spreading through his body. He’d taken so much from Samuel that he couldn’t hold it back on his own anymore. He let out a sound that was half sigh, half growl, and pushed to his feet. Arwinn moved back to give him a respectable amount of space, only offering a bow before turning to leave. Grimr’s voice stopped him a few feet away, however.

“Arwinn Feine,” he said, his voice clear. “I appoint you as Guardian of the Wilds until my return.”

Arwinn didn’t seem the least bit surprised. He offered another bow, deeper this time. “It shall be my honor to tend to your home while you are away, my lord.”

With that, he was gone, and Grimr went to work. The mortals may have invented Divine magic themselves, but he’d studied it for centuries and knew its workings well. With one simple gesture, he created the outer ring of the enchantment. A few spoken words and the inner rings of runes appeared around him. Taking on Divinity was a bore, he thought, as it came with all sorts of rules and restrictions. You were forbidden to meddle in mortal affairs, or your enchantment would fade. You could only reach out to those who pledged themselves to you, and through them, you could act. But the tradeoff was worth it, as Divine Magic stopped the Corruption in his body, beginning the slow process of reversing the damage.

His mind returned to Samuel Bragg as the Divine Enchantment took effect. He could feel it beginning to crush the Corruption in his body and let out a quiet sigh of relief. The boy. The man, he corrected himself, had a lot to learn. But it was trivial, as his strength was undeniable. Grimr remembered the sense of destiny he’d seen about the boy when they’d first met, in that tiny village on the coast. After helping his companion fight the hardest fight of his life, and preparing for his own, he hadn’t expected to meet such an interesting person as Samuel Bragg. He recalled the joy and excitement Samuel had displayed when presented with new information. He recalled his pride in his work and the pride in his ultimate dream.

“What was that thing he always said?” Grimr muttered to himself, chuckling quietly as he imagined the inexperienced mage that was overshadowed by who Samuel was now. “Ah, yes. Every great story needs an author.”