“Vessel immortality,” Isaiah hummed.
Burn smiled. “Morgan said that, judging by my power now, I could handle Urien and Romeuf at the same time and they wouldn’t stand a chance. Then, about your father, the… Demon Lord…”
“It is well enough to address him thus. I possess no sensitivity towards it,” Isaiah smiled.
“She said I’d handle his situation with ease,” Burn said.
Isaiah nodded in agreement. “By thine actions towards the outsiders, verily, if thou hadst walked the earth in yonder days, my father would never have found himself as strong,”
“So, was the situation back then handled poorly?” Burn asked.
“Nay, ‘tis not as poorly handled as thy tongue would suggest. The world then lay divided, not solely ‘twixt races, but between kin and clans of the same blood. All was in disarray. Hence, when the Demon Lord did manifest, the folk were ill-prepared to counter him,” the dragon explained.
Burn crossed his arms. “Morgan… no, never mind.”
Isaiah smiled, “Dost thou harbor curiosity regarding thy wife?”
Burn nodded.
“She shall most likely divulge all thou seekest,” Isaiah said. “And if aught she conceals, it be assuredly to shield thee from that knowledge,”
“Precisely,” Burn said.
Isaiah led him outside of the cave. Looking at the sky, it was strange that they could no longer see the moon because they were on it, and could only see the blue planet.
“Morgan Le Fay is the purest soul I have ever encountered,” Isaiah said. “As her junior and comrade in many a fray, I do hold her in great reverence.”
Burn felt a strange tingling in his heart. It wasn’t like him to feel this emotion, but it was all too familiar. An emotion he had always had in his heart, since he was little.
Jealousy.
“Hast mine words struck a tender chord?” Isaiah smiled.
Burn married the strongest woman in the world, who also happened to be the most beautiful and kind. It would be weird if he didn’t feel some jealousy, but more so, anxiety.
He always believed that anxiety emerged from one’s inability or insecurity, but that wasn’t always the case. It was human to feel the fear of losing one’s most cherished. And feelings like that weren’t all that negative.
“To me, Lady Momo is my cherished senior, a beacon of virtue. She was the first to extend her hand to my humble self. This gift she hath granted to many. Her might doth not lie solely in her infinite soul or her celestial beauty; nay, it is her absolute kindness that shines brightest,” Isaiah said.
Burn remembered the day she embraced him, even though he thought she would push him away. Facing someone like that, even a ball of mud like him would fall in love.
“So, I’ll ask you the most important thing,” Burn said. “Do you romantically admire her?”
“Good heavens, forsake me from such musings; I am no lunatic,” Isaiah felt goosebumps running up and down his body. “She may be devastatingly fair, incomparably strong, and ultimately benevolent, but after all the bizarre acts she hath done?”
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“Ever?” Burn asked.
Isaiah fell silent for a moment. “In youth, the Holiness was the coveted white moonlight and the inaugural crush of many. Even yon Urien… Cast not aspersions upon me for this.”
So it was her own fault no one actually loved her deeply. Superficial love from appearance, strength, and kindness alone wouldn’t count because loving her for who she truly was went deeper than that.
Then why him? Or how could he?
“All this sapient discourse doth drain the spirit; men such as we seldom indulge in such confessions. How can we, of all folk, engage in this?” Isaiah felt a bit awkward and disgusted. “Social intricacies art never my forte.”
Burn shrugged. “Yeah.”
Silence.
Not even a wind since this was the moon.
“Oh, cease this awkwardness! Why dost thou wax sentimental all of a sudden?!” Isaiah’s face was a bit red, more from embarrassment than anger.
“Felt like speaking with a close friend,” Burn said suddenly.
“AAAAAHH! CEASE! FIVE HUNDRED YEARS HAVE I LANGUISHED UPON THIS DESOLATE MOON! DO NOT SUBJECT ME TO THIS!”
Socially awkward dragon—no, introvert dragon.
“HAST THOU NO SHAME?!” How could this human be this vulnerable in front of him? Is he crazy?
“They say two men who have sparred and clashed weapons are closer than married couples,” Burn smiled.
“AAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!” Isaiah clutched his ears. “DISGUSTING!”
Burn’s shoulders trembled with laughter, while Isaiah, who had just experienced the first gay joke slash ‘kiss the homie goodnight’ in his long life, almost pulverized into pure light.
***
Walking back to the hall, Burn found himself increasingly exasperated with the mode of communication here on the moon. Using mana to vibrate sounds directly into his ears felt less like a casual chat and more like enduring a relentless ear bug.
The peculiarities of lunar gravity and the absence of atmosphere rendered meaning an odd and sluggish affair—any object that fell plummeted at a fixed speed, but also slow.
“Doth the condition upon the moon commence to vex thy mind?” Isaiah ventured, his tone a delightful blend of sympathy and mild amusement.
“Mm,” Burn replied. “My body has adapted, but my brain is starting to feel like it's swimming through molasses. The mental exhaustion is a bit too much.”
The vacuum that enveloped them was a constant reminder of the moonscape’s harshness, a stark contrast to any semblance of comfort.
Still, here was this dragon, an ancient being that had somehow navigated the absurdity of lunar living for over five centuries. Speaking to him, clearly, Isaiah had developed an honest, awkward, and dry sense of humor as a defense mechanism.
Upon entering the hall, they were met with the sight of Morgan, blissfully unaware of the irritations surrounding her.
Her eyes were closed, and Mnemosyne’s Aeons spun and whirred in front of her. The screen on the ceiling flashed details of the rift over the planet, as though it were mocking the very notion of peace.
Both Burn and Isaiah exchanged glances, a silent agreement hanging between them: interrupting her now would be bad. Whatever mystic ballet Morgan performed was undoubtedly important.
After a while, the catalyst ceased its spinning and whirring, and Morgan opened her eyes.
“What were you doing?” Burn inquired as he ambled over, extending a hand as if offering kindness or perhaps just a lifebuoy.
Morgan turned, her smile bright as a comet, and grasped his offered hand. “Just simple calculations.”
“For…?”
“Escaping,” she replied. “I’ve found some hidden places near this galaxy to stash our world away, restoring peace.”
Isaiah and Burn narrowed their eyes. As if hiding a planet was akin to tucking a wayward sock under the bed.
Memories of Morgan's earlier feat flashed in Burn's mind—how she had meticulously studied the discreet location of Nethermere and crafted a ten-circled barrier to further hide the world.
And now, here she was again, contemplating relocating the world, hiding it once more.
“With magic?” he asked.
“Just exploring some options,” Morgan shrugged.
Burn closed his eyes momentarily, smiled helplessly, and nodded. “Of course, Madam. Why not add planetary migration to your resume?”
He glanced at the massive rift looming over the planet, a dark specter tethered to their existence. It didn’t just hover ominously; it moved in tandem with the planet's trajectory, as if it were a shadow chasing the sun, destined to engulf everything in its path.
“But you know I don’t like that idea, right?” Burn asked.
Morgan nodded. “Of course, you’d prefer the approach of confronting them head-on. I know. I believe it’s also the most effective method. Running away is just postponing the inevitable.”
“Yes,” Burn nearly interjected, his tone sharp. “You don’t have to martyr yourself for the world again.”
Morgan raised her gaze to meet his. It was a rare moment to see Burn appear solemn. “Let me share the burden with you.” He then smiled. “By now, you should’ve been tired of it, right?”
Morgan snorted.
“Let’s go home.”