“That will be enough for today, Chalroth.” Merahn patted the green dragon on his head. “You have done well. Soon, you’ll be ready for battle.” The little dragon stared happily into her eyes.

“Thank you, Master Merahn!” Chalroth said. “When are we going to train again?”

Merahn raised a claw to her chin. “Hmm… does two days from now sound agreeable?” she said. Chalroth responded with swift nods. “Good! Well then, I’ll see you in two days. As always, if you have any questions, don’t be afraid to stop by my lair.”

“Yes, Master Merahn!”

“Goodbye, my little friend.”

The grey dragoness sighed as her student skipped away. Life had become exhausting ever since Grudent’s death. Her beloved Grudent. A loud sob escaped her jaws, but fortunately no one was around to hear it. Having to hold a front of wisdom and stoicism for Chalroth’s sake had worn on her. She longed for a long flight through the night sky, a time of peace.

Most of the anger had by now worn off, and in its place had come regret. Why on Terris did she blurt out a desire to feast upon the enemy? That wasn’t the path of the Draconist, she knew that well. Many a moon spent praying taught her this. A terrifying darkness within her soul had shaken her to the core, and she had to repent.

I’m sorry, Divinity. I’m sorry.

She dried her tears, and for Lothar. First, she paid the tavern a visit. Lothar loved the occasional drink after stressful moments. Plenty of dragons were there, drunk out of their minds joking and laughing and roaring with one another, but not Lothar. He wasn’t in the baths, nor in the temple. Finally, she went to his lair.

As she approached, her ears caught wind of irregular, ragged gasping. With the gasps came an occasional whine. A deep, hoarse whine, one that clearly belonged to a male. Merahn’s stomach tied itself into a knot, as she pressed onwards.

Then, as she rounded the final corner, a bestial screech echoed at deafening levels, blasting square upon her head. Merahn trembled, sank to the floor and covered her ears. Loud whines followed after the scream. What in Divinity’s name was that?! Then, she spotted Novekk cowering with his tail between his legs by the entrance to Lothar’s lair, his black scales gleaming dully in the flickering torchlight.

Merahn sprinted towards the black dragon. “Novekk, what’s going on? What was that sound?!”

Novekk whipped his head towards her, his snout carrying an expression of fear and stress. “See,” he paused to heave for breath, “See for yourself, Lothar has lost his mind.”

Gulping down saliva, Merahn turned her head towards the lair. Lothar was there on his nest, curled up into a ball and shivering as a frostbite victim would. His head was buried under his own claws, the gasps and wails passing through the gaps between each talon. His wings stuck to his back as if someone had glued them down.

“Lothar, what’s happened?!” Merahn asked, her voice shaking. He didn’t respond. “Lothar, answer me!” she cried out, poking and shaking his body. Then, he lifted his claws from his face, and once again cried out in pain. Merahn sank to the floor and shielded herself from the outburst with her wings. Her heart beat like that of a mouse. Lothar resumed sobbing, paying no heed to the two dragons behind him.

Merahn crawled backwards out of the lair. “Novekk, what happened?! What has gotten into him?”

“I have no idea, just moments earlier he was perfectly fine when I told him his son woke up, now he’s like this all of a sudden,” Novekk said, shaking his head and fluttering his wings nervously.”

“What’s this about a son? Lothar has a son?”

Novekk licked at his gums. “Yes, well that’s what he claimed, anyway. He brought in this adolescent human earlier, unconscious and suffering from poison. He told me not to say a word about it, but...” He shook his head. “I can’t keep that promise now, can I?”

“My son… MY SON!!” Lothar whined out between sobs, “I ruined my life, I ruined his life, no, nonoNOOO…!”

The two monochrome dragons whipped their heads towards Lothar. “L-lord Lothar!” Novekk said, putting a forepaw into his lair. “Can you speak now? What’s the matter with you?”

“I should never have left you, son, I should never have done any of this, Why, why, WHY?!” Lothar beat his foreleg into the ground. The bones audibly cracked, to which Lothar yelped. “Please end me already, Divinity. Please, I don’t deserve this gift. Not after letting my wife, my beautiful, beautiful wife and beautiful daughter die. Not after commiting my grave sins before my own son, my own SON…!!”

Out of the blue, Lothar resumed screaming, his voice at the breaking point. But now, his bout of insanity marched into darker territory. He rolled onto his back, and clawed at his own face. Scales frayed, and blood spattered out of his hide with every strike.

“Lothar, don’t!!” Merahn screamed. But Lothar didn’t listen. Then, Novekk bumped a foreleg into her chest.

“Get his son here,” Novekk shouted. His tail lashed out behind him. “Hurry, before this gets any worse!”

A soft rumble rolled out of Merahn’s throat. “Okay, okay, I’ll get his son. Where is he?”

“The special room, in the sick bay. Hurry, I don’t know what else can possibly solve this. I’ll stay here to watch Lothar, you go get his son. Go!”

* * *

The amulet shone in all its glory whenever Victor held above his head. Pristine to the touch and eyes, a paragon of old Lokahnian craftsmanship. It was a testament to what the Lokahnian people were capable of when allowed to prosper. Victor felt a hint of pride as he thought about it. No sensation comforted and satisfied quite as knowing he belonged to the same people who created such art.

Not something one considers normally, but any comfort was more than welcome at this point. Victor was exhausted, and bored out of his skull, alternating between studying his amulet and resting his head. Any attempt to leave the bed sent a jolt up his spine. Whatever the dragons had in store for him now he had resigned himself to. Immolation, a mauling, served as the main course, it didn’t matter. He got to spit in the face of that hideous beast, and nothing else mattered.

After reminiscing his old life, the ticks of claws against the stony floor returned. These were different. Not as brash, but soft and ladylike. Victor lifted his head from the pillow. A grey scaled dragon entered the room. Unlike the previous two dragons, which were muscular and had massive horns, this dragon appeared lithe and unintimidating. given her slender horns and eyes basked in purple.

“Are you Lothar’s son?” it said. The voice was feminine, and easy on the ears.

Victor buried himself back in his blankets. “If you believe so, monster,” he said in a weak voice.

The dragoness sighed. “My name is Merahn. I wanted to check up on you, if you don’t mind.”

Merahn? What abyssal pit do these beasts get their names from? “I don’t really have a choice in the matter, do I?” Victor said, rolling on his side away from the dragoness.

“Well, yes, but-”

“Why are you doing this to me?” Victor asked. “All I want is to die. Why do you beasts torture me like this?”

The dragoness approached and lowered her head. Her warm breath blew upon Victor’s neck. “We don’t want you dead, child. Why would you throw away your precious life, the gift from your parents like this?”

“Because both of my parents are dead. Killed by your friend, the golden behemoth.”

“Hmm.” Merahn gulped some of her saliva, and looked away for a moment. “That’s not true. How is it possible for your father to still be alive after killing himself?”

Victor flung his body around. “Don’t play games with me,” he said, spitting out saliva like a venomous snake. “How can that beast be any relative of mine? I’m human, not abyssal spawn! Wretches, none of you want to put me out my misery, you’ll just have me suffer for as long as possible before finally killing me.”

Merahn hung her head low, away from Victor. Minutes went by without her saying so much as a word. Victor continued his barrage of insults in his thoughts. How? How can a species be as evil as yours? Tell me, what bestial force brought you upon this world?

...listen carefully, Victor Miller…

A voice echoed in his mind. Victor’s eyes shifted back and forth to try and locate it, but no dice.

…listen carefully to Merahn… for it is the absolute truth…

Who are you?

...that is a matter for another day… my apologies…

As the echoes faded, Merahn’s gaze now snapped back to Victor, who frightfully stared back. “What happened before you were brought here?”

Victor bit his cheeks. “Your thugs chased me into the woods and cornered me. Then your golden friend arrived and ripped them apart like a ravenous animal.”

Merahn nodded. “And why do you think he did such a thing, but left you alive?”

Victor groaned. “I don’t know why-” He stopped speaking. Something pushed on his mind. A warm embrace of sorts, akin to a parent hugging their child. A new thought arose within, one that Victor didn’t believe in, yet was compelled to blurt out regardless. “He… did it to protect me?”

“Exactly.” Merahn pressed her snout against Victor’s cheek. “He did it because he loves you, Victor. He killed them to save you. You’re his whole life, the reason why he decided to accept the blessing of dragonhood, and lead this rebellion… you. He loves you, Victor.” Her voice pulsated with confidence in herself.

‘Blessing of Dragonhood’, oh gods almighty… “I don’t believe you.”

“He’s heartbroken now because of all this. You can see it for yourself, if you’d like,” Merahn said, in a calm but stern tone; a level of anger was hidden within. Victor wanted to say no, but that was futile. Merahn grabbed him with both claws, slung him over her back, and darted out of the sick bay.

“Where are you taking me?!”

“You’ll see.”

* * *

Victor constantly tried to wiggle himself free from Merahn’s grip, but it didn’t work; she was far too strong, and his recovery hadn’t finished yet. Merahn never responded to Victor’s protests. Eventually, Victor sighed and gave up.

With every step, ghastly wails and screams echoed through the tunnels of this massive, labyrinthian complex. Gratin, painful to the ears, but horrifying most of all. Someone’s spirit had broken. Roars and screams echoed, interrupted by screeching claws scraping against the rock alone. Victor shaked in Merahn’s claws.

Eventually, they reached the source. The black dragon from earlier stood guard at the entrance, preventing other dragons that had come to look from seeing what was happening. Merahn placed Victor on the ground. “Here, have a look for yourself,” she said. The black dragon made space for Victor to pass. Slowly, and nervously, he stepped into the lair.

His entry went in sync with another wail. Horrified, Victor watched on at what he’d done. The golden dragon, the inhuman beast, the butcher himself was curled up into a ball, crying and quivering on a pile of straws. His legs, wings, and tail were pressed against his body, and appeared so fragile, given how ferociously they shook. His scales clanked and scraped against one another.

Victor’s teeth chattered as chills rose up his spine. “H-hello-” Before he finished saying a single word, the dragon rolled over. His entire face was shiny and covered in bloody scratches. His teeth were bared, and his eyes stared straight into Victor’s soul. The fear in those eyes. The pain in them.

It was dead silent. Neither dared to move nor speak, nor to let their gaze dwindle from one another. The dragon still shivered; it’s fear was as great, if not greater than Victor’s. Then, something shone in one of his claws.

Without thinking, he stepped towards the claw. The dragon’s hot, rapid breaths now landed on his neck. With little effort, the claw opened. The medallion piece was within, shiny and wet. Victor grabbed it, and held it against his amulet. It formed a shape. The swords and dragons of the Lokahnian coat of arms.

“...Father… is it you?”

The dragon’s breathing intensified, and the amber resumed shedding tears. Suddenly, Victor’s body jerked forwards. Two large claws had wrapped around his back; Lothar held him against his chest. The tip of his snout pressed into Victor’s shoulder, and large teardrops ran over his back.

“F-father...”

Victor’s own emotions flared. He stretched his arms over his father’s chest, and teared up himself. Lothar stroked his back with his talons.

“It’s okay, son… It’s okay...”