Winston’s nose had always been his greatest strength. Lich Queen Irila had freed him from the dungeon’s of Estora and given him his own chambers high up in the ancient palace, yet not far enough to hide her secrets. Their scent filled the air like the sweetest honey. She could not hide it from him, even sealed within the deepest catacombs of her lair. Even she had underestimated him, giving him freedom to roam her palace.

Each time he was left alone, he grew closer, scurrying through the small crevices home only to rodents and insects. The once great Winston Irons degraded to a rat in the wall—literally. But he did not mind. It was not the first time he’d feasted on rats, and even now their form was of use. If it meant his odds of survival increased, he’d do anything, even crawl through excrement and offal.

Fortunately, this part of the walls wasn’t so bad. The stench of ancient dust was everywhere. It was a scent Winston had grown used to, and one of the better options while crawling through the walls of the ancient palace of Estora. Lich Queen Irila had made it her home. Now that she had claimed him as her servant, it was his home too.

Fury bubbled in his chest and he sensed the familiar warmth around his neck. Even thoughts of betrayal could bring about the pain through the runes she’d carved into his perfect body, marring decades of careful progress.

She wanted a hound and for now she would have one, but he would not break.

There were other mysteries too—spread throughout the ancient city that surrounded him. Estora—he’d heard of it from long ago and knew there must be knowledge hidden here. Once he was free…

The warmth returned and he forced the thought from his mind, focusing only on the path ahead. So long as his mind was focused on that and nothing else, the runes would spare him.

It was slow progress in this small form, but it wasn’t like he had anything else to do. Irila said she had a use for him, but whatever it was, she’d yet to reveal it. So, bit by bit he formed a map of the palace in his mind. The many decayed rooms, rampant with cobwebs and dust. Bedrooms, kitchens, libraries with disintegrated books and even old sewer tunnels—it was all becoming his. The lich had sealed herself away in her lair, but she could not know the paths a rat would take. Each day, he scurried deeper.

He knew he was nearing something from the smell. Decaying flesh was Is distinctive, but the lich’s magic changed it, making it somewhere between life and death. Putrid, but not entirely festering. He poked his head through a hole in the floorboards and climbed out. The scent of Irila came from further away. He was alone.

Manipulating his runes, he shifted back into his human form and rose to his feet. Monstrosities were laid across two tables, their limbs merged with metal. Each was as big as a troll, their flesh bulging and lumpy, with thick bone scales covering parts of their skin. Their eyes were lifeless and Irila’s power was not yet fuelling them. At least for now, they were still dead. He looked around at the many books and alchemical components, breathing deeply as he searched for the scent of something interesting.

There was nothing of true import. Powerful potions and books of knowledge, no doubt, but not the secrets he craved, nor the feast he smelt below. A feast like no other. He had to go deeper.

The scent of the lich struck him suddenly. Strangely, it came from above rather than her lair. It was not the first time she’d disappeared in one place only to appear elsewhere. Even now, the palace held secret passages he could not find. Swiftly, he shifted back into a rat, disappearing below the floorboards and racing back toward the walls. If she wanted him, he had to ensure he was there.

It was a long way back to his chambers in this form, and he ran the entire way, returning to his human form outside the door before entering.

“Where have you been?” Mal squawked as he entered, the skull remaining his only constant companion.

“Out,” he said.

“Where out? Why didn’t you take Mal with you?”

“Because Mal doesn’t know how to be quiet.” The scent of Irila was growing closer, accompanied by something else. Something that made his stomach growl. “The mistress is on her way here.”

The skull froze, its mouth ajar. Suddenly it started clicking its teeth in a nervous frenzy. “H-how do I look?”

“A little dusty.”

“Dusty? Well dust me you buffoon! Quickly. Quick—”

The door opened, and Winston turned to face his mistress. Her face was even paler than normal, her skin dry, and lips ruby red. She’d been wielding magic.

Winston bowed his head. “Mistress Irila.”

“He vanished again, Mistress!” Mal shouted.

“Did he now?”

“I was walking around the palace,” Winston said.

She nodded. “I have brought you a gift.”

She held up a hand and clicked her fingers, the sound ringing out unnaturally loud. Behind her, two undead monstrosities dragged the corpse of a monster behind them. No, not just any monster. He recognised this scent. This sweet delicacy. It was not as young or fresh as the wizard’s, but there was no mistaking it.

“A dragon,” he marvelled at it, already salivating even as he tried to figure out what the lich’s plot was. Black scales rippled across its lifeless body. Many had been ripped from its flesh, large chunks of meat gouged out, yet there was plenty left.

“A wolf dragon,” Irila corrected. “I told you I would feed you. Here it is.”

“Why?” he asked cautiously. “I have done nothing.”

“Not yet. This is a gift, not a reward, shifter,” she said. “Eat and await my orders.”

Winston did not know her intentions, but they did not matter. She had brought him a gift, and he would feast. His hunger was all encompassing, raging from the deepest part of his core. A need for life force, whatever the source. Whether man, dragon, or lich queen.

His hands became claws as he fell to his knees, runes activating across his body, his face contorting, mouth growing larger and teeth sharper. He pierced the scales easily, digging into bloody flesh, searching for the heartstone he knew was in there. It called to him, a smell so delicious the rest of the world became blank. There was only hunger.

***

The flame of death was gone from the Temple of the Everflame when Celaine arrived that day, yet the change it had brought about lingered in Drakalyn. From the base of the pyramid, she could see the village at work. For the first time since she was born, the entirety of the dragon blooded would be mobilised.

Fifteen watchtowers surrounded Drakalyn, each designed so that a few men could hold off hundreds. They had simply not been truly threatened for so long, but now Owalyn’s protection was weakening. Whatever was distracting her, they would need to make up for it. Then there were the temples too—eight of them that could be converted into strongholds with little effort. Places where essence was thick, and they could fight at their best.

As one of Owalyn’s Chosen, she would take her place out there too. Most likely as a hunter—that was what she was good at. Picking off the more powerful members of the lich’s army from the shadows of the forest, well before any battle took place at all.

For now, she would focus on her tribute to the temple. A testament to her time away and her gratitude for returning home safely. The dungeon core she’d captured was stored in her Belt of Storage. The others that had participated in the expedition were arriving one by one. Everyone except Hump, of course. He was not welcome inside the temple. It was ridiculous, but the Trinity of Elders would not budge on the rules even with Hump’s Trial of Resolve approaching. Only dragon blooded or aspirants could enter the temple. That was how it had always been.

“Why have you got the dragon?” Finn asked, coming to stand beside her.

Nisha huddled up against Celaine’s leg, glaring at Finn suspiciously. She was nowhere near as boisterous as she was when Hump was around, and from the look of her glare, Celaine wondered what she’d picked up on about Finn.

“I’m going to take her to see the remains of Vindari’s heartstone,” Celaine said. “She has never sensed her mother. Hump’s still not allowed in the temple.”

Finn raised his brow. “I see.” He nodded toward the village. “It’s surreal seeing it like this, isn’t it. I’ve never seen so many beyond the threshold at once.”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

“A part of me is excited,” he continued. “This is a chance to prove ourselves and what we’re capable of. The hunt of a lifetime. Tales of the coming days will be told for generations.”

“Not if we lose,” Celaine said.

He frowned at her. “We cannot lose with Owalyn on our side. Drakalyn will always be here.”

Celaine let out a long sigh, anxiety filling her. “I hope so. But many will die, there is no avoiding that. Drakalyn will never be the same again.”

Talk lulled between them, not for the first time that day. Celaine never remembered feeling awkward with him when she was younger, but now… well, he’d made things awkward.

“Celaine,” Finn said suddenly. “Have you got some time later? I thought we could get dinner… for old times’ sake. Unfortunately, I’ve been instructed to seek out the gnoll pack this afternoon, so it’ll need to be this evening.”

“You have?” Celaine asked.

“I’m not sure what anyone thinks they can tell us that we don’t know already, but orders are orders. Anyway, what do you say?

She hesitated a moment before nodding. She could humour him for lunch at the very least, she owed him that much. “Dinner would be nice.”

His grin was wide and hopeful, but his next words were cut off when the temple doors opened. Two guards held the door, while a priestess of Owalyn stepped outside.

“Elder Rena is ready for you,” she said. “Please enter.”

“Let’s go, Nisha,” Celaine said, leaning down to pick her up. She was large enough now that she had to put her front paws over her shoulder.

Celaine kept her gaze fixed ahead of her, not wanting to appear distracted as she made her way toward the main hall. Distantly, a dragon grumbled, and Nisha twitched in her arms to listen.

Alir greeted the sentinels by name as they entered. It was Celaine’s first time in the Temple of the Everflame for over a year. Stepping through the grand doors, she was hit with a sense of power unlike anywhere else in the world. This was Owalyn’s prize, filled with thousands upon thousands of heartstones. They were embedded into every wall, adorning the lavish paintings that told the ancient tale of Owalyn, their eyes alive with heartstones, their clothes shining with them. They were embedded into every wall, illuminating the corridor with a rainbow of light.

The scent of herbal candles filled the main chamber beyond. Pillars towered to the high ceilings, each of them covered in heartstones. Servants of Owalyn watched them enter, each wearing robes of green. They sang in unison, the deep notes reverberating in Celaine’s chest, right down to her soul. Amongst the stands, she spotted her parents, Myra, and more distant relatives, all smiling at her.

Elder Rena stood behind an altar at the head of the room. It was formed from intricately twisted wood, with a leafy green top.

“Step forward, Celaine, Daughter of Owalyn.” Her voice carried through the room, resonating with the magic of the temple.

Celaine set Nishari on the ground and told her to wait with Vamir, then withdrew the dungeon core from her bag, passing the empty bag to her uncle. She walked along the central aisle, the dungeon core held in both hands. The song continued, soothing as a gentle breeze. Celaine was filled with a sense of calmness, and the sudden feeling of truly being home.

“Place your tribute upon the altar, child,” Elder Rena said.

Celaine did as she was asked. The leaves were soft as a sponge, bouncing as they took the crystal orb, still shining with the red essence of the dungeon. Elder Rena poured water over it in a fine stream, letting it trickle over the core and flow across the altar. Immediately, the leaves grew upward, surrounding the dungeon core until only the top showed. Red light exploded from it, but it was quickly contained within the leaves, staining them with its power. Veins of red appeared in the twisting wood below, gleaming as they absorbed the core’s power, adding to the reserves of the temple.

Until finally it was over. The song ended. The leaves of the altar parted, revealing the clear, dead crystal of the core.

“Welcome home, Celaine,” Elder Rena said, smiling.

Following the ceremony, Celaine thanked the group for their time and helping her to claim the dungeon core and wished Finn luck on his trip. Watching him go, she hoped she wouldn’t regret dinner later.

Alone with just Vamir and Nisha, they descended into the crypt following wide, large steps underground. Even dragons could enter here if they wished and spend time amongst what remained of those they had lost. The crypt was full of colourful paintings and brightly patterned fabrics. Each heartstone was mounted upon a monument. There were hundreds of them, filling the room with light, almost cheerful despite the graves. A celebration of life rather than a place of grief. For those that were bonded, their keeper was buried in a stone grave at the base.

Vindari’s was the most recent addition, added to a pillar monument to the left of the stairway. Her heartstone was a vibrant red now that it was purged of the green essence that had poisoned her in Bledsbury.

Approaching it, it read:

VINDARI, DAUGHTER OF STORMS.

EVEN IN DEATH, HER UNWAVERING DESIRE TO PROTECT REMAINS ETERNAL.

“This is her,” Celaine said, holding Nisha so that she could see.

She sniffed the air curiously, leaning forward for a better look and tilting her head. Her purple eyes glimmered with the essence of her mother. She pressed her nose to what remained of her heartstone and closed her eyes, breathing. A gentle thrum reverberated through her body, almost like a purr.

“I always wonder what it is they sense here,” Vamir said. “The keepers speak of frozen moments left behind as the dragon passes.”

Celaine watched Nisha with a sad smile as the little dragon pulled back. She turned to Celaine with a playful look in her eyes and Celaine couldn’t help but laugh. She wished Hump could have been here, though no doubt Nisha could sense him close.

“Frozen moments sound nice,” Celaine said.