Dragon Empress

Chapter 17

“When magic of the blood is called from mortal sacrifice,

The highest crime of ages past will then be rectified.

The scales of balance will be set for those who love and hate,

The magics never meant to war will equilibriate.

And when there rises from the dust the vale of severed souls,

The master of their light will stand, imprisoned and alone.

This victory shall mark the end of all the world has braved,

And only then will blood and kin of light and dark be saved.”

It was a prophecy, or so she assumed—it had the same structure as the prophecies she’d encountered, including Valerion’s and Necrovar’s, and the Moorfainians’ infamous Prophecy of Night.

“What does it mean?” she wondered, scanning the text.

“It foretells the end,” said another disembodied voice, soft as a whisper, yet powerful as an avalanche. The sound echoed in Keriya’s ears and vibrated in her chest, making her heart quiver against her ribs.

She stared around—at the sky, the sea, the mist—but nothing had changed in the world. Nothing except a swelling of potential energy. An inaudible hum of power pervaded the atmosphere. The scent of magic, like earth and electricity and sunlight, reached her.

“Who are you?” she whispered.

“You know who I am.” As with Necrovar’s voice, the words came from everywhere and nowhere.

“The Dragon Empress?”

Only silence met her guess, but who else could it be?

“Where are you?” She peered into the mist. It had lessened, and now she saw the hint of a shape at its center.

“I am in all things, in every magicthread of every universe.”

Ironically, the answer helped Keriya relax. In an alien world, here at last was something familiar. Gods were notoriously cryptic.

She dared to edge forward, entering the circle of obelisks. At once the mist thinned, but no massive dragon awaited her. Instead, there was a cracked slab of granite, out of which sprouted an old shrub with brittle, thorn-speckled branches. The branches had grown in a spherical shape, creating a hollow at their center. And in that hollow . . .

“Oh,” whispered Keriya. A glowing sphere of light hovered within the cage of thorns. It looked exactly like she imagined her magicsource to look: a miniature sun swarming with threads. A magical dandelion with a million glowing tufts, each straining to break free.

The light flared red to catch her attention—though it needn’t have bothered, as she was already captivated—then faded to a deep green.

Wonder blooming in her chest, Keriya approached the thorn bush. Its dark branches had a faint metallic sheen. The light pulsed, and energy echoed in her soul like siren song.

Her foot twisted on a stray valestone. She wobbled, and that brought her to her senses. Clearing her throat, she straightened.

“My name is—”

“I know who you are,” the Dragon Empress interrupted. “And I know why you’ve come.”

She snapped her mouth shut. No grandiose introductions, then. No begging and beating around the bush—And no pun intended, Keriya thought, eyeing the stubby plant.

“I am the universe, and I know all. I’ve watched you from the moment of your birth.” The light turned a soft, reminiscent gold. “I remember when you were young.”

“Innocent and naïve,” Keriya murmured.

“Hardly. You wanted to be a hero. You wanted power.” The light faded from gold to violent crimson. “You wanted to make them sorry, if I recall, those who’d wronged and hurt you.”

Yes, Keriya remembered that, too. She had been a lonely, angry child.

“Yet you have grown and changed,” the voice continued. “And here you are at last: the power you’ve sought all your life is within your grasp. But tell me, Keriya Nameless, why should I give it to you when darkness reigns in your heart?”

Keriya recoiled, stung by the accusatory tone. She hadn’t expected a test of her moral character, and she was suddenly, painfully certain she would be found lacking.

The light flickered. “I’m waiting.”

This wasn’t something she could bluff her way through—without magic, she couldn’t cloak her mind. The Dragon Empress could see every thought, every truth.

“You’re right,” she began in a shaky voice, clasping her hands. “There is darkness in me.”

No point denying it, and the light seemed pleased that she hadn’t. It swirled and settled into a soft, calm blue.

“But there’s good in me, too.” Keriya faltered over the words, unused to thinking well of herself. Her childhood in Aeria had destroyed her in ways she was only now beginning to appreciate. Psychological a***e had taken its toll. The years she’d spent unable to wield, and the torment she’d received because of it, had made her believe herself worthless.

That wasn’t an easy weight to crawl out from under.

“I’ve changed. I am descended from the guardian of Pure Changemagic, you know.” She figured it couldn’t hurt to drop some names. “I made a lot of mistakes along the way, but I’m finally in a position where I can make a difference. I just need to learn to control valemagic.”

“You are not worthy to learn from me.”

Her pulse spiked. “I can’t go back without answers. I’ll do anything—”

“Why?” sneered the fey light, throwing Keriya’s favorite word in her face.

“To save the b****y world, that’s why!”

“A touching sentiment, but an empty one. There is always something selfish at the core of our choices. No one wants to save the world for the sake of it; the world is not nearly a pleasant enough place for that. What are you really after? Glory? Vengeance? Power?”

“No,” Keriya cried. “I want to save the world because I love it!”

Her words echoed between them. She hunched her shoulders, ashamed of her outburst and worried that the Dragon Empress would smite her for speaking untruths. Yet the light cooled from angry orange to a soft green, and made no objection to Keriya’s assertion.

“I love it,” she repeated, as if she herself had just realized that fact.

Thorion had wanted her to love the world, and she did. She loved the emerald hills of the Smarlands, the windswept valleys of the Erastate, the mighty rivers of the Galantasa, the majestic coast of the Fironem. She loved her friends, she loved Viran—no matter that he no longer loved her—and she loved the precious eggs hidden in the Norythian Mountains.

Half the time her love felt like manacles, tethering her to people and places and things she didn’t know and would never see. But, as Seba had pointed out, she’d never have come this far without it.

“Maybe that’s still selfish. I want to save the world because I don’t want to lose the things I care for. Does that make me worthy to learn?”

“It does not.”

“Then what would?” She planted her fists on her hips. “What must I do to prove myself?”

“There is nothing you can do.”

“Well, I refuse to leave until you change your mind.”

“You think you can argue with me? We are not on Selaras. There are no binding laws to protect you here. I could evaporate you where you stand and shred your soul to pieces in less time than it takes to blink.”

“But you won’t,” said Keriya, taking herself by surprise. “Destroying my soul would destroy the essence of Pure Watermagic, and that would destroy the balance.”

“Presumptuous child,” growled the light, though Keriya caught an undertone of amusement in the echoing voice. “Do you think yourself clever?”

“Not really. I’ve just had good teachers.”

“So it would seem. You are an interesting creature.”

A flutter of recollection passed through Keriya, but she brushed it aside. “There must be something. I’ll do whatever you ask of me.”

The light faded through a series of colors, finally settling on an awful shade of black. It washed the clearing and the twelve obelisks with dark luminosity. Keriya fidgeted before the light, awaiting judgement.

“You could set me free,” it whispered at last.

“Free?” she repeated, frowning.

“I was once a flesh-and-blood creature. I was idealistic, naïve, someone who wanted to save the world because she loved it. Rather like you, in that regard. I sought the power of valemagic, as you do now. I needed to save my kin, the dragons, from their warlike ways. Valemagic agreed to help me, but it demanded a price.”

“Your soul,” Keriya whispered. She’d heard this story last year from Necrovar.

“Indeed.” The light’s weighty tone sent another fluttering thrill through Keriya. “And I did not wish to pay that price. I wanted freedom and power, the ability to do everything and anything. I exorcised part of my soul before sealing my pact with Valemagic—an attempt to retain my independence. But my plan failed.”

The voice softened, and the black light turned a sorrowful sapphire. “When I fused with Valemagic, the remainder of my soul wound up here. And here I have languished for a hundred-thousand years. I lost myself and everyone I cared about.”

“You’re a prisoner,” said Keriya. The light between the brambles was the actual soul of the dragon who’d lived and breathed and fought for her kin a thousand centuries ago.

“Not entirely. My physical body remains in the mortal realm as the Selaran host of Pure Valemagic. My soul can even be destroyed or bonded, as I learned the hard way. But in the sense that my true self is eternally bound to this place, then yes. I am a prisoner.”

Keriya knew a pang of sympathy for the light. “So, I could free you?”

“I will never be free until I am whole; but you could release me from one set of shackles.”

Keriya’s palms were suddenly sweaty. “How?”

“Draw a drop of your blood. Then all you have to do is touch me.”

She hesitated. As with the valestones, an instinct of self-preservation reverberated in the marrow of her bones, telling her not to do it.

“If you were mortal, you would die from coming in contact with my power,” said the light, again responding to her thoughts. “But you are more than that, Keriya. I know what you’re capable of. I know everything about you. So please . . . help me.”

Realization struck like a lightning bolt. The clues stitched together in Keriya’s mind as she walked forward, transfixed. She climbed onto the cracked stone dais and grasped one of the dark branches, squeezing her thumb against a thorn. Dark droplets bloomed as the point pierced her flesh.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then the light burned brighter, turning the angry color of flames. It devoured the bush, incinerating the brittle limbs. The light turned purple and burst outwards, engulfing the clearing in a roaring, red-violet glow. The force of it hurled Keriya to the ground, and she tumbled backwards across the grass.

She curled in a defensive ball at the foot of an obelisk, shielding her eyes from the blinding light, her ears from a deafening roar. The roar faded into words spoken in a deep, feminine voice that radiated power:

“I am free.”

Keriya blinked to clear her vision as the light faded. The Dragon Empress, whose head had been pointed to the heavens, arched her neck and looked down. “Hello, Keriya.”

Keriya stood on shaking legs. “Hello, Shivnath.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN“The trick is not to choose the lesser of two evils, but to rise above the evil once chosen.”

~ Shivnath Valestar, Twelfth Age

Shivnath’s emerald scales shone black in the dimness of the Broken Vale, but their golden edges glinted in the scintillating starlight.

“You have questions,” Shivnath observed. “As always.”

A greater understatement had never been uttered. Keriya trembled beneath a crushing deluge of realizations, one unfolding after another. Blood rushed in her ears. Everything sprawled before her, becoming clear in one brutal heartbeat. Shivnath was the puppeteer behind the dark veil, the master manipulator who had led her, breadcrumb by breadcrumb, to this point.