Stealth was a lost art. Espionage even more so, especially on Tripolis where commerce and camaraderie between the populus and the visiting races of nearby worlds gave no way to conflict.
It was in conflict where the Assigner drew his strength, the deeper the well of it, the more he could gorge himself and reinforce the stardust walls of his city.
Carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, silicon, iron, gold, silver, platinum, the elements meant nothing if the Assigner couldn't feel and fuel conflict.
The molten iron lapped at the Assigner's skin, a caress more intimate than any mortal touch, its searing embrace a balm to his wounded essence. Millennia's towering spires, adorned with the shimmer of perpetual dusk, stood sentinel around him, their shadows cast long and foreboding over his pool of restoration. He reclined in the liquid fire, feeling the fibers of his being knit back together, thread by scorching thread.
Vectra hovered at the pool's edge, her silver chains clinking softly with each movement around her ankles and wrists. Her fingers trailed through his hair, the shiny silver brought forth by the iron taking effect and healing him.
She was the black stardust against the night sky of Tripolis and he was the White Snake.
As the liquid iron purged the weakness from his body, the Assigner's mind roamed to darker thoughts.
His fucking children.
Those ungrateful inbreds, the instruments of pain he brought forth and forged from nothing but his own imagination. He raised them from ashes, created them, gave them power so they could sow conflict on Tripolis where there was none and help him feed his power.
And this was their thanks.
A rebellion.
Their usefulness had waned, their expiration date reached.
Vectra's fingers traced the contours of his brow, her touch light as a shadow. The Assigner reclined within its molten embrace, the fiery liquid lapping at his skin that was impervious to the scalding heat. The surface shimmered with an unnatural luster, casting a glow that danced across Vectra's obsidian eyes.
"How are you feeling?" she asked.
"What do you think," he spat. "She expelled me from Rosum's body like it was nothing, wounding me. She wounded me, Vectra."
"Indeed," Vectra replied, her own expression unreadable as she continued to stroke his hair. "You said it was wise to send her away," the Assigner mused aloud, his voice echoing hollowly in the cavernous space around them. "Yet she has twisted loyalty into betrayal, sowing discord among those I crafted for obedience."
"An error, perhaps," Vectra conceded, her gaze never leaving his. "But it is done. Rhona lies cold, her enigmatic tongue silenced forever. And the dragon..." She paused, her lips curling into a half-smile, "...she is left bereft of truth, unable to whisper secrets to Milada's eager ear."
The Assigner's nostrils flared slightly, and his eyes narrowed. "She had better not, Vectra," he growled with a low, dangerous timbre. "I never liked her talking, the talking is what got us into trouble." He let out a hiss, the sound merging with the sizzle of the iron that encased him.
Vectra's silver chains clinked softly as she stepped towards the black pool, her bare feet silent on the obsidian floor. The molten iron hissed and popped, an orchestra of heat.
"Yes, my dearest," she uttered. "Griselda's voice will never be heard again." With deliberate grace, Vectra descended into the pool, the liquid iron parting for her as if recognizing its mistress. It embraced her without burning, without consuming; it knew her as part of its divine creator. She moved through it, a spectral vision—a being not of this realm—until she reached him at its center.
The Assigner watched, his eyes reflecting the fiery light, as she glided closer. His own body, submerged in the restorative heat, welcomed the proximity of hers. There was a momentary stillness, a held breath before the inevitable union. They merged, flesh to flesh, spirit to spirit, until they were indistinguishable from one another. Vectra leaned over, her lips meeting his in a kiss binding the master and the slave for as long as Millennia would stand.
***
The devastation was immeasurable. There were some two hundred people in the Vlachy encampment of the Aazor city. After Rosum's rampage, only ninety or so remained. The carnage - the blood on the blade grass, the people Rosum mauled near the lake had their blood seep into it and poison it.
Edward was cleaning dirt and poison from Rosum's fangs off of Soileen's children, the younger girl, Hilde, not twitching an eye whilst he was doing so.
Areilycus took away the pain from Soileen's leg while the Anchor did her best to wrap her little boy's head with Hibiscus weeds.
Volmira returned from town. She held Rosum's head in her lap, trying to revive him. But it was nought.
"Do you believe me now?" Mila asked. Edward knew not who she directed this question towards, but it seemed like the Anchor had run out of patience. Based on her siblings' empty faces, they did too.
No one dared look her in the eye or even acknowledge she was right about their father.
Bonnie, the little dragon who tried to burn Rosum with her fire but couldn't produce a single breath from her small lungs scooted over to Areilycus, flapping her wings.
Edward's Bonnie tried to clean the blood off of what little clothes the Vlachy had in the lake, the stains hardly coming off, even with the herbs Soileen had put into the mash for her.
"The witch mother is dead," Soileen said, shushing her little girl. "We have no leader."
"Perhaps you should elect a Vajda," Edward suggested. "Isn't it high time?"
Soileen's fingers traced the intricate patterns on her silver pendant as she surveyed the somber group, her heart heavy with the weight of their people's fate.
"We cannot continue without leadership," Edward said, his voice gravelly with exhaustion. "The slaughter has left us vulnerable. We must elect a new Vajda."
Areilycus leaned forward, his golden eyes intense. "And risk drawing more attention to ourselves? The people of Aazor already view us with suspicion. If we appear organized, they'll see us as a threat."
Soileen buried her head in her hands. "But if we do nothing, they'll force us onto those ships bound for Valorian. We'd be sailing to our deaths."
Soileen closed her eyes, remembering the nameless islands dotting the horizon - beautiful, but deadly. "Perhaps that's what they want," she mused. "To be rid of us once and for all."
As the debate continued, Areilycus inched closer to Milada, seeking comfort in her presence. He reached for her hand, but she stiffened and pulled away, leaving him stung by the rejection.
Mila's eyes flashed with pain and anger. "Don't," she hissed. "This is exactly why it happened. We let our guard down, and look what it cost us."
She stormed into the woods, leaving behind her desensitized sister holding the body of their dead brother.
Ari followed after her as he always did.
Mila, you can't blame yourself for the slaughter. Our feelings didn't cause this."
"Of course they did!" Mila's voice cracked. "I lost focus, and that bastard took advantage. He possessed our brother, killed him, just to show he could. To punish us for daring to be happy."
Ari wanted nothing more than to pull her close, to soothe away her anguish. But the raw hurt in her eyes kept him at bay. He clenched his fists, fury rising within him. It happened more and more often these days. The serenity was stripped away, and the gold in his veins began to bubble. Boil.
As Mila turned away, wrapping her arms around herself, Ari's resolve hardened.
He grasped Mila's shoulders gently but firmly, turning her to face him.
"We already knew that, Milly," he said, his voice low and urgent. "We knew he could kill us. At least now we know for sure he really wants to. But that's not all we know."
Mila's eyes, still shimmering with unshed tears, met his. "No?" she whispered, a hint of curiosity breaking through her despair.
"No," Ari insisted, his mind racing. "Isn't it strange to you he hasn't done it yet? He could descend on Valorian and kill us all right now, why does he bother with possessing our brother and making him kill us?"
She bit her lip, a habit he'd always found endearing. "I don't know," she said finally, her voice barely audible. "Because he's sick in the head?"
Ari shook his head, a spark of excitement lighting his eyes. "No," he said, leaning in closer. "Because he can't leave Millenia. He can't leave Tripolis, darling."
Mila's eyes widened at the endearment, and Ari felt a flutter in his chest. "You've never called me that before," she murmured. "Not darling, not Milly. It's... new."
Throwing caution to the wind, Ari cupped her face in his hands and kissed her softly. As he pulled away, he saw a glimmer of hope in her eyes, mirroring his own.
"You deserve something new," he whispered, his thumb tracing her cheekbone. "Something completely untainted by our father."
***
"So, what is this great secret you wanted to show us?" Mila asked.
The translucent skin stretched across the deck of the Lioness, its iridescent scales shimmering under the midday sun. Captain Edward Kinsley stood at the center, his weathered hands resting on the hilt of his sword as he surveyed the scene before him. The crew formed a protective circle around the massive shed skin, their eyes darting between the bizarre spectacle and their captain.
Areilycus approached slowly, unsteady on his feet from the lingering effects of his storm sickness now that Bonnie remained at the camp with Volmira for protection, the effects of radiation were coming back.
Mila hovered close by, ready to catch him if he stumbled.
"What in the living fuck is that?" Areilycus asked.
Edward's lips curled into a grim smile. "That, my boy, is what we found in the caves of Isla Rhea. Or rather, what my boatswain Herald stumbled into."
Mila's brow furrowed as she studied the shed skin. "It's enormous. But how...?" She trailed off, her eyes widening in realization. "No, it can't be. You don't mean to suggest..."
"It's where we found her, Mila."
"It could have been her mother," Ari suggested.
"Dragons don't hatch," Mila repeated the words of the witch mother. "They don't fledge, they are not born, they are created …"
Areilycus swayed slightly, steadying himself against the ship's railing. "Bonnie? But she's just a baby. How could she have grown so large and then shrink?"
Edward's eyes narrowed as he recalled the hidden cave system. "There's more to your dragon than meets the eye. Herald and I discovered something else when we fell through that blasted goo hole."
Areilycus felt a chill run down his spine despite the warm air. Edward reached into his coat pocket, pulling out several sheets of rough sandpaper. He carefully unrolled them, revealing intricate copies of the cave drawings.
"I traced these as best I could," he explained, spreading them out on a nearby crate for the twins to see.
Mila and Areilycus leaned in, their eyes widening as they took in the strange images. The first drawing showed a snake and a woman intertwined, their bodies forming an intimate, almost loving embrace.
"What does this mean?" Areilycus whispered, his fingers hovering over the sandpaper.
Edward's voice was grim. "Keep looking."
The snake morphed into a brilliant flame, while the woman's form shifted into that of a majestic dragon.
"Is that... Bonnie?" she asked, her voice barely audible over the lapping waves against the ship's hull.
The captain nodded slowly, then gestured to the next drawing. The flame had spread, filling the entire image with pinpricks of light - stars scattering across a cosmic void. From these stars, figures emerged - human-like, yet not quite human.
Areilycus felt a chill run down his spine. "They look like... us. Like Sensitives."
Mila's hand trembled as she pointed to the final image. The star-born figures were disintegrating, turning to dust. And there, in the corner, the snake had reappeared - but now it took the form of a menacing wolf.
"It's us," Mila said, her face pale with shock. "I was right. He wants to kill us."
"But why?" Ari asked.
"Dragons are immortal," Mila said. "Just not in the way we think they are, that's what Rhona said to me shortly before she died."
"It's clear this little dragon and your divine father have quite a bit of history," Edward said.
"We cannot kill her," Ari said.
"That's great and all, friend, but I need that dragon's heart to bring back Neptune. It is non-negotiable," Edward said.
"I'll find a way," Mila promised. "But first, we'll deal with the Queen breathing down our necks."