"You're saying...The Axel...is a dragon eye?"

Meya finally managed to eke out, disrupting the stretch of deafening silence. Zier merely dipped his head and clutched it in his hands, neither confirming nor elaborating, so Meya turned to question his brother instead.

"How come you didn't recognize them, then, Coris?"

Coris shook his head numbly, eyes still fixed upon his brother's pallid features.

"The Axel was kept inside a puzzle box at all times. Even I have never seen it." He murmured back. Meya sighed in slight disappointment, settling for her own thoughts instead.

"Gillian's a dragon. Why would he want another dragon eye?"

She muttered. Right then, soft approaching footsteps alerted them of Lady Jaise's return. The trio whipped around, their eyes following Winterwen as she swept past their couch, half-circled the table then reclaimed her seat.

Winterwen laid the small pile of items she was carrying on the tabletop, and extracted the ledger from the bottommost to slide it back into the drawer. Of the remainder, one was a leather-bound codex which made up for its convenient size with excessive pages. The other was a casket of black velvet.

Winterwen slid the nondescript box across the table towards the youngsters, who in their eagerness had scooted to the edge of their couch, then flipped its lid open. Sitting snugly on a bed of stuffed velvet was a metallic eyeball with a glowing green iris, and a minuscule black nametag labeled in silver ink:

Axel Hild

"Axel?" Coris breathed, as Zier seemed to have chosen the opposite.

"Hild?" Meya exclaimed, her voice arcing an octave higher than usual. Winterwen nodded. A slow and firm nod as grave as her tone,

"This is the first eye in our Library. Or rather, the origin of our Library."

The Lady inserted a pause, as if to allow her audience to react and digest, before continuing,

"After Prince Philip slayed his father, King Edward II Wynn, and usurped the throne, and the Mining Ban was enforced, your ancestor, Maxus Hadrian—" Her lace veil fluttered as she turned abruptly to the Hadrian brothers. She grasped the box for emphasis, "—brought this eye of your ancestor, Axel Hild," Her attention snapped to Meya, who jolted, "—to my ancestor, Lord Ralon Jaise."

The three children could only mouth half-formed words and exchange bug-eyed glances, then Winterwen's voice recaptured their attention,

"Ralon was also eyeless." The eyeless lady gave a slight bow, acknowledging their unuttered questions, "In exchange for sight, Maxus asked Ralon to record Axel's memories, and keep his eye safe."

Church bells clanged in Meya's brain then.

"Memories?" She blurted out. Despite the interruption, Winterwen nodded with a faint smile of encouragement, prompting Meya to straighten up and clarify.

"I remember, my lady. Yesterday, you said my eye conveyed my memories to you. So that's how you learned my true identity?"

"Exactly." Winterwen's tight smile twitched slightly at the corners before falling back in place. She nudged the box further towards Meya, who reached out a ginger hand to retrieve her forebear's eye. As she rolled it between her fingers, transfixed by its iridescent shimmer along with the brothers on her either side, the Lady elaborated,

"As you can see, dragon eyes contain Lattis. In fact, the eyes are the only part of the dragon body that are comprised of Lattis, in its elemental form, in substantial amounts."

In her hand, Axel's eye revolved back to the front, and Meya found herself looking past the deceptive, lifelike glow into the empty depths of his pupil—and doubting the odds.

For seven generations, the branch of Hilds she was in was comprised entirely of humble, faceless farmers in Crosset. What had old Axel done to land himself a role in all this? How did his eye end up with Coris's ancestor, then Lady Jaise's ancestor?

"It has been known that Lattis generates pulses of unseen energy that heal and maintain balance in the human body. Some would call it magic." Winterwen tilted her head. Meya tore her gaze away from the eye and focused on the Lady, waiting with bated breath, even as she had nary a clue where Winterwen was heading with this meandering talk.

"Through decades of study, we discovered that these pulses are not just plain healing power. Rather, they are messages—signals to the brain that help regulate functions of the body. You see, eyes are where dragons house their memories. And, instead of physical connections—nerves, like humans—the Lattis in their eyes convey these memories through energy pulses directly to their brains, forming their selves—as philosophers would call it."

Meya's impatience subsided then surged again; as blurry puzzle pieces snapped into place, they birthed more questions as the incomplete picture expanded further into shadows. As if she could read Meya's whirring thoughts through her mask, Winterwen cocked her head and explained,

"Humans are receptive to these pulses as well. And, after a few years of practice, would be able to comprehend them just as a dragon would. As is the case with the eyeless."

Winterwen's smile widened, and Meya was inexplicably sure she was winking with her borrowed eye behind her mask. She blew out a low hum of comprehension, her eyes distant as she formulated her thoughts. At long last, she nodded slowly, a crease of concentration tugging her brows closer,

"So, when Greeneyes go near lumps of Lattis ore that send out signals of their own, they interfere with our brains? That's why I feel ill and confused when I'm wearing too much Lattis on me?"

"Yes." Winterwen nodded eagerly, then cocked her head once more as she listed out, "The first telltale signs are, of course, dimmed eyes and reduced body heat. Prolonged proximity with excessive amounts of Lattis, however, will result in headaches, unconsciousness, lapses in memory, and, in extreme cases, death."

Winterwen concluded gravely, and Meya felt Coris's clammy hand on hers, as her whole body seized up in chilling fear. After a brief yet heavy pause, Zier broke his silence for the first time

"Lattis causes memory loss in dragons, that would explain you." He cocked his head in Meya's direction, then leaned forward and looked past her to his brother, "But it wouldn't explain you, would it?"

It took Meya a few moments to realize Zier was referring to the Crosset Famine. Winterwen, however, remained flummoxed. The flow of new developments thus trickled away to a temporary draught, as Coris segued into retelling his kidnapping. Fortunately, he did so in the most compact manner possible. Hardly surprising, considering the dozens of rehearsals he'd had throughout the years. And Winterwen was also an excellent listener. She listened raptly, still save for the occasional subtle nod.

Once Coris had wrapped up, the Lady took some time pondering, drumming her fingers soundlessly on the tabletop. Finally, she nodded once more.

"I believe that could be a different case altogether. For the both of you. Trace amounts of Lattis in the bloodstream." She suggested, tilting her head to indicate an unseen location,

"Our resident alchemist, Sameri, is also studying the properties of dragon blood. I've instructed her to bring your alchemist up to speed on what she has discovered so far."

Indeed, Bishop Riddell, Arinel in tow, were visiting the alchemist today to discuss the drought. Meya met eyes with Coris. He cocked his head towards the glowing eye still pinched between her fingers, and Meya nodded with a sigh, contenting herself with pursuing the matter at hand. Like the canny observer she was, Winterwen slid the small leather-bound book towards her.

"This is a copy of Ralon's records on Axel Hild." Meya spared the memoir a glance as Coris picked it up and examined it, then turned back to Winterwen, who remained focused singularly on her,

"As the first and only Hild descendant to have visited us so far, I deem it is yours to keep, as well as his eye. Should you wish so."

Axel's eye rattled in Meya's trembling hand. Winterwen gave a little bow to acknowledge her smile of gratitude, then offered.

"You would want to peruse it thoroughly, but as we're pressed for time, allow me to summarize the gist for you."

The Lady straightened in her seat, clasping her hands loosely before her, then began without further ado,

"Axel Hild was a poor young peasant farmer in Noxx, lured by lucrative prospects to the iron mines of Rutgarth, not long after the accidental discovery that dragon blood could aid in refining Lattis."

The foreboding start had Meya tensing up in fearful anticipation, and Coris's hand reclaimed its place atop hers. Unfortunately, the continuation did not betray expectations.

"Axel ended up being kept prisoner there, along with hundreds of fellow Greeneyes. Milked for blood to extract the otherwise indestructible metal. Up until the Nostran dragons burnt Rutgarth to the ground."

"The dragons assaulted at night, hailing fireballs from the night sky over the Zarel Pass." Winterwen poured herself tea and took a sip, then leaned forth, beckoning the youngsters to mirror her.

"They came without their riders; meaning this ambush was kept secret even from the Nostrans. One would suspect it was an act of rebellion against all humans, not just Latakia. And one would be correct."

The dragons were without riders!

The crucial detail that for two centuries had been omitted from official history had the three of them staring at each other in shock. Meya couldn't help thinking of Gillian and his cohorts; another instance of dragons invading Latakia without human masters.

Winterwen continued,

"After destroying Rutgarth and sealing the mine, the dragons took the surviving miners and Greeneyes to a secret fortress on their side of the mountain. They kept them prisoner there, and treated them no differently from the Latakians. The humans were made to mine, and the Greeneyes were little more than blood mares."

"What do they want Lattis for? What are they building?" Coris rammed straight to the point, sharp as always. Winterwen nodded with a smile of satisfaction.

"They call it The Rota. A contraption designed to neutralize the energy pulses of Lattis. Should it be deployed on Latakia, dragons could cross over Neverend Heights and seize our land for their own. It would mean annihilation for us."

"But, even without The Rota, I could still live here fine." Meya pointed out with an irresistible shrug. She glanced around at the two brothers, then back at Winterwen, "They've had hundreds of years, why haven't they invaded us once?"

"Pure dragons are much more affected by Lattis than Greeneyes, who are half human and acclimatized from birth." The Lady was prepared with an explanation, "It hinders their daily performance, and substantially shortens their lifespan."

Meya didn't know whether she should be relieved for her homeland or concerned for her fellow dragons at that. Caught in the middle was rarely the comfortable place to be in, especially race-wise.

"That would explain why dragons crossed over Latakia in favor of Nostra when they first migrated from Everglen. Nostra has no Lattis, whereas we have aplenty." Winterwen added after another sip of refreshing tea, "And that was also the reason Nostra surrendered the War of Independence. It'd be a waste to lose more dragons prolonging a futile war with Latakia, when they could wield those dragons to expand west, and maintain order in their empire instead."

Meya nodded slowly as she digested the enlightening revelations, unwittingly fingering Axel's eye as she pondered.

"So, the dragons built The Rota—No, they didn't." She backtracked. Of course, her life would have been vastly different had the dragons succeeded in their endeavor. She glanced up at Winterwen. "What happened?"

Winterwen spun her handle-less teacup idly for a moment, choosing her words, before answering,

"While they designed and perfected The Rota, the dragons needed a means to record their experiments without the knowledge ever being discovered by humans."

Meya's eyes widened behind her mask, as the truth dawned on her.

"Dragon eyes." Her whisper barely left her throat. Winterwen nodded heavily, her lips a tense line of sorrow,

"To prevent their victim resisting, the dragons had planned to erase his memories with Lattis, rendering him an empty receptacle, a vessel with no soul."

"On the day the dragons came to choose their vessel, Axel plucked out one of his eyes and swallowed it, telling the dragons that he had sold it off long ago. It might have been a wise decision, self-preservation wise, but having one eye was precisely why he was chosen."

"He had no back up?" Zier speculated. Winterwen raised her teacup to him, then heaved a labored sigh as she turned back to the eye Meya was holding.

"Throughout the experiments, Axel's memories in this eye remain intact, while his other eye contains the only copy of instructions on creating The Rota."

It was as if lightning had struck the room, eradicating shadows with its illuminating flash of truth. The three teenagers whipped around to meet each other's gaping mouths. Coris's conclusion came out a strangled whisper.

"The Axel."

Winterwen nodded.

"When the first Rota neared completion, Maxus Hadrian led the prisoners into rebellion against the dragons, and escaped back to Latakia with twelve survivors, and twelve pieces of The Rota."

"So, Axel didn't make it?" Meya felt her heart writhe. After all he had suffered, she couldn't help praying for a peaceful, satisfactory denouement for Axel. Even as she had guessed that he likely would not escape Nostra alive. How else would Maxus be the one to divide his eyes between Hadrian and Jaise?

Winterwen dipped her head in somber affirmation.

"He transformed and used his fire to collapse a tunnel over the pursuing dragons, but was crushed under the debris himself."

"—And Maxus gouged out his eyes from his lifeless body?" Coris interjected, voice uncharacteristically harsh with disgust, his trembling knuckles shining white against Axel's memoir. Winterwen shook her head.

"In his auxiliary notes, Ralon's impression of Axel was as an embittered, cynical man who had lost all faith and hope. Be it in gods, humans or dragons." She gave a melancholic sigh,

"But Axel's last act was the ultimate sacrifice for a cause greater than himself, one he knew he would not live to see. And his last memory was of him entrusting his eyes—and with them, the future of all three races—to Maxus Hadrian."

Winterwen concluded her tale. Meya, Coris and Zier naturally turned to each other once more, their unseen eyes pooling on the younger Hadrian's midriff.

The future of humans, Greeneyes and dragons had been passed on from her ill-fated ancestor to their ancestor. And, judging from Axel's point of view, somewhere in Zier's bowels, the future was solid darkness. Literally.