The Ballad Of A Semi-Benevolent Dragon

Chapter 54: The Dragon Remembers

Whatever joy or levity Doomwing felt vanished as he approached the plateau. Regal Flame must have sensed the change in his mood because her pace slowed, and the embers that trailed in her wake grew cold. She eased back and let him pull ahead as he banked to land not far from the monuments he’d made to commemorate the Catastrophes and those who’d fallen defeating them.

He was all too aware of the many eyes upon him. Some were awed. Others were questioning. And still others were uncertain. He paid no mind to any of them. Instead, his gaze was drawn to the five monuments before him. Soon, he would add a sixth. But for now, he found his memories drifting back through the Ages. There was no need for memory enhancement magic. Some memories were bound to fade with time. Others, however, would never fade, for better or for worse.

As a hatchling he had never truly understood terror, not until the day the skies broke, the gods died, and the shattered scales of his kin fell like rain. The Broken God had taught him two things that day: terror… and hatred.

He had seen the Broken God with his own eyes, if only from afar. To some terror was a bloodied blade or a leering face. To him, terror would always be a twisted abomination of corrupted god-metal, an accursed, wretched titans whose very image he had done his best to destroy. No trace of the Broken God remained in the world, save for in the memories of primordial dragons and the very depths of the Deep Dreaming. The latter was a testament to the Broken God’s might, and its status as the oldest and greatest of the world’s fears.

His gaze drifted to the second monument. Many times, he had asked himself if there was something he could have done to persuade Mother Tree. Ages had passed since her death, long Ages filled with suffering and loss. Yet despite all the knowledge he had gained, all the wisdom he had paid for with blood and sorrow, the answer had never changed. She had made her choice, and in the end, so had he. In truth, she’d made her choice long before that final confrontation. Only the gods could have changed her mind, and by then, all the gods were dead. Part of him was glad for that. Dion would have been inconsolable if he’d seen the two of them locked in battle.

His attention shifted to the third monument. The Lord of the Tides. His lips curled. The Lord of the Tides had been a worthy foe. He had made no secret of his intentions, and he had pursued them with distinctly draconic vigour. That had been a good battle too. A worthy battle. He had almost died, and yet… he had seldom felt so alive. The Lord of the Tides had been his foe. There was no history between them, no reason to hold back or give quarter. It had been kill or be killed. Even now, Ages later, he could remember every detail of that battle.

If the Lord of the Tides had been a straightforward opponent, then the Mad Vampire had been a testament to the heights that could be achieved through cunning. It should have been impossible for any vampire to grow so powerful, yet Marcus’s father had proven that madness was no obstacle to power. It would almost have been admirable if his methods had not been so despicable – and the consequences so dire.

Doomwing’s claws clenched. Had the plateau been any less durable, he’d have torn gouges into it. Dawnscale had left in the aftermath of the Fourth Catastrophe, and that was a blow that cut more deeply than any wound the Mad Vampire had managed to inflict. He had no idea if she would ever return. Indeed, he didn’t even know if she was still alive.

It was strange. He could still remember the pity in her gaze when she’d left. She was a fool. A sentimental fool. She could run as far as she wished, but she would never find the paradise she longed for. No matter how many worlds she visited, she would never find one without struggle. But if she did find such a place, he would still want no part of it. He was a dragon. He had no desire to face more Catastrophes, but a life free of struggle was not worth living.

The Exiled Star they’d faced was but the tiniest sliver of something infinitely greater. That titan of light and fire and glory, a being whose Truth bore down on the world and cast Judgement upon all others… that creature was nothing more than the faintest of shadows cast by the radiance of the true Exiled Star. Dreamsong had glimpsed the truth in the depths of the Deep Dreaming. The true Exiled Star was a fallen guardian whose strength had once guarded millions upon millions of worlds, whose mere gaze could have reduced their world to dust a billion times over.

The shard of the Exiled Star they’d faced had been a single grain of sand on a beach that stretched out into infinity. The foe that had driven them so close to death was only the smallest fragment of an unimaginably greater whole that had somehow managed to slip past whatever defences kept the Exiled Star from laying waste to countless worlds.

Had Ashheart been less lucky, had Doomwing been even a fraction of a second slower with his magic, if any of them had made even the slightest mistake… it was best not to think of it. Yet that battle had also given Doomwing a glimpse of what lay beyond the darkness between worlds. As mighty as he and the other primordial dragons were, they were nothing more than very big fish in the very smallest of ponds. Beyond their world, past the sky and the shadow, were powers they could not hope to comprehend.

A weaker person might have been broken by that knowledge.

But Doomwing was no weakling.

So be it.

Perhaps there were powers out there beyond his comprehension. If so, then he would simply have to find a way to comprehend them. More importantly, that knowledge gave him hope that a Fifth Awakening was possible. And what he’d glimpsed in the moments he’d lingered on the edge of death after being struck by Kagami’s god-metal spear had only strengthened that belief. A Fifth Awakening must be possible – and more besides.

“When will you be adding the sixth monument?” Regal Flame asked. She could move very quietly indeed when she wished, or perhaps he’d simply been too preoccupied with his own thoughts.

He turned away from the monuments. He was not upset that she’d spoken. On the contrary, he was glad that she’d broken him from his reminiscence before melancholy could overtake him. It reminded him of the long ago days of his youth, when Stormtooth had dragged him off on some wild adventure whenever the taunts of their peers or his own failings had lowered his mood. Mother Tree had called them a pair of fools, but she had always been smiling when she’d said it, so the words were spoken more of exasperation than in genuine rebuke.

“Not yet,” he rumbled. “I know the names I wish to add to the monument.” And there was one name in particular that came to mind. “However, you and the others must have names you wish to add as well. I would learn those names, so they might also be added. All who gave their lives to defeat the Sixth Catastrophe should be remembered.”

“Good.” Regal Flame’s gaze grew complicated. “She was… your friend, wasn’t she?”

“She was.” On the rare occasions Doomwing thought of Kagami, he preferred to think of her as she had been before her madness and paranoia overtook her. The foul creature she’d become had not been his friend. No. Whatever part of Kagami had ever been his friend had died long before he’d struck her down. “But the creature I killed was no friend of mine.”

Regal Flame said nothing, but the weight of her gaze let him know she understood. Of course. She too must have been forced to strike down friends and allies after Kagami’s sorcery drove them mad. It spoke well indeed of Firetail. The drake’s loyalty had never wavered, not even for a moment. He had never been the mightiest of Regal Flame’s followers, even before his crippling at Soulseeker’s claws. But he had always been the most loyal, and such loyalty was worthy of the highest praise.

“Is it true that she struck you with a spear of god-metal?” Regal Flame asked. “I do not doubt your words… yet… only the gods could make god-metal. When they died, what little remained vanished with them. How could she possibly possess a spear made of it?”

Doomwing almost reached up to touch the place where Kagami’s spear had pierced his chest. The wound had healed, yet the shock of seeing the weapon remained. “I know very well how impossible it must sound, but it was god-metal.” Flame kindled in his jaws. “I remember the feel of god-metal from the First Age. I could never mistake it for anything else. I do not know where she got it from, but I have no doubt that it was truly god-metal.”

“But you were able to destroy it.” Regal Flame tilted her head to the side. “From what I remember of the First Age and Mother Tree’s teachings, that should be impossible. Only the gods could destroy god-metal. That, at least in part, was what made the Broken God such a terrible foe. Only the gods could wound him.”

“And your father,” Doomwing said. “Only he, of all the gods’ creations, was able to wound that most terrible of foes.” He shook his head. “In truth, I am not sure how I was able to destroy it. Perhaps whatever method she used to obtain it weakened it somehow. All I can be certain of is that none of it remains.” And wasn’t that a pity? There was much he could have learned from a spear wrought of god-metal, yet he had been in no position to hold back when confronted by such a weapon. “Yet despite the wound I suffered, I am grateful.”

“Oh?” Regal Flame shifted closer, eyes luminous with curiosity. “Why is that?”

“I almost died. Yet on the verge of death, I saw something that gave me hope.”

“What did you see?”

“An eye.” Doomwing shivered. “An enormous, silver eye. A dragon’s eye. I saw it as my soul drifted through the astral plane.” He bared his teeth. “God-metal is fearsome not simply because of its physical power but also because it strikes at more than the body. I also have magic that lets me perceive the astral plane. Each time I have glimpsed into it, I have seen light, a radiance that seems to be everywhere yet come from nowhere. It was there, on the edge death, that I understood. What I had long thought was the light of the astral plane was simply the gaze of that silver eye.”

Regal Flame stared. “That… for such a thing to be possible, for a dragon to possess such power…”

Doomwing grinned toothily. “Such a dragon is proof that the Fourth Awakening is not the end.” He chuckled. “To be honest, I have long suspected that. After all, your father was able to wound the Broken God. He was the mightiest of us all, yet for the other dragons of that era to achieve nothing? Perhaps in his final moments, he found a way to become something more, to reach beyond the Fourth Awakening.”

Regal Flame smiled, and there was no small hint of bitterness in it. “My father was different from other dragons. I was so young then, but even then, I knew that. If there was anyone who could have gone beyond a Fourth Awakening, it would have been him. Alas, whatever insight he gained, whatever… power he obtained, it died with him.” She took a deep breath and turned toward the monuments. It must be strange. She had been so young when Sovereign Flame had died. She knew more of him from Mother Tree’s stories than she did from personal experience. “How will you gather the names for the sixth monument? I can provide you with a list. However, the others… not all of them will be so easy to speak to. Indeed, there are some who have no desire to speak with you at all.”

Doomwing’s eyes gleamed, and he almost gave a snort of disdain. He knew all too well how irksome some of his fellow primordial dragons could be. Few were as foolish as Soulseeker had been, but they could be tiresome in their own ways. Some, like Stormbringer, were manageable enough, albeit eccentric. How she could derive such amusement from throwing hapless creatures into a Pool of Ascension never ceased to puzzle him – nor did her luck ever cease to aggravate him. But there were others who were far harder to deal with. He could think of at least two who were as likely to attack him as speak to him. Visiting them one by one would not only be horribly inefficient but also dangerous. He had a better solution.

“I will call for a meeting between all primordial dragons,” Doomwing said at last. His tail thumped the ground. “Here, at this plateau. Long have I slumbered, and much has the world changed in that time. Promises have been forgotten. Oaths have been abandoned. I would remind the others of their responsibilities. I would remind them that if they wish to avoid a repeat of the Sixth Catastrophe – and its many sacrifices – then we must, once again, renew those ancient promises and oaths.”

Regal Flame laughed. It was a pleasant sound, not mocking but full of joy. “A meeting between all primordial dragons? Yes. You certainly have the right to call for such a thing, and it has been too long since we all gathered. Yet contacting the others will not be easy. They are far away, and some have even withdrawn from the world and gone into seclusion.”

Doomwing rose up to his full height and flared his wings. Flame kindled in his jaws, and his power fell over him like a shroud. “I am Doomwing. When I call, they will answer. My magic will see to that.” His eyes blazed like pools of molten gold. “If there are those amongst your followers with a talent for communication magic, then I suggest you call for them. I know not if they will learn anything from watching me, but they may glean a thing or two if their talent proves sufficient.”

“What do you intend to do?”

“I will call for the others – but in a way they cannot ignore.”

Regal Flame had sent word to those amongst her followers who were gifted in communication magic or who had any real interest in magic at all. She was not surprised when both Frostfang and Squallwing arrived as well. To watch Doomwing work a great magic outside of battle was a rare and precious opportunity. Indeed, the mere fact that Doomwing considered his technique worth observing meant it must be potent indeed. His standards were so high that what most people considered magic of the highest quality he found to be so mundane as to be unworthy of closer observation.

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There was a part of her that was disappointed that a day that had been going so well had been overtaken by old regrets and sorrows. Yet that was part of who Doomwing was. The grief that sometimes fell like a mantle upon him and the sorrow that lingered like the scent of rain after a storm – he could no more easily set those aside than he could change who he was. It was Doomwing’s nature to grieve as deeply as he cared. He would never admit to such a thing, but she had known him for a long time. She had seen him at his best and at his worst. And unlike so many others, she was certain that his grief and sorrow would never break him. He was Doomwing. He would grieve, and he would mourn. He would bleed, and he would suffer. But he would never give up. To do so would shame the sacrifices of all those who had gone before. To do so would mean that his friends had died for nothing, and that he could never allow. Doomwing was like the dragons of old. He would die before he broke.

“What is he going to do?” Squallwing asked Frostfang.

The young dragon was practically vibrating with excitement. Since his arrival, she had learned a great deal about him, both from observation and from her followers. In most respects, he was not impressive, especially considering his lineage. He could not fly well. His physical abilities were all lacking. Even his magical power was mediocre.

What he did have was a great love for magic – not simply the grand magics that could level mountains and boil seas, but all magics. She had granted him access to the books, scrolls, and tablets that covered what dragons considered to be lesser magics. Few bothered to look at them for long, for such magics were generally considered mundane and boring. Squallwing had been perfectly content to immerse himself in them. It was then that she’d realised he found joy in the simple act of learning magic, no matter how weak or mundane it was. He was like a human stumbling about in the desert, and those paltry magics that others looked upon with disdain were akin to cool, fresh water.

It was strangely adorable.

It also explained his interest in Doomwing. If Ashheart was the mightiest dragon in purely physical terms, then the same could be said of Doomwing when it came to magic. If anything, the gap between Doomwing and the next most skilled dragon in magic was larger than that between Ashheart and the second strongest dragon.

There was not a single aspect of magic in which Doomwing could be found wanting. It was not a matter of talent. To be sure, Doomwing was talented. However, he had found ways to excel in areas where even his own nature worked against him. That had been less a matter of talent and more a matter of sheer bloody-minded stubbornness and pride. He was Doomwing. To allow any aspect of magic to elude him would be unthinkable, akin to letting a priceless treasure slip through his claws. There might well have been dragons from the First Age who had boasted more magical power than him, but she was certain that his knowledge was second to none.

“A communication spell – one strong enough to reach every primordial dragon in the world, regardless of their location.”

Frostfang chuckled. “Without using his mirror?” Regal Flame nodded. “Then it would seem that Doomwing intends to remind the others of why we follow him into battle. Such a feat would be beyond any of us.”

Embers drifted through the air as Regal Flame inclined her head in acknowledgement. Even for a primordial dragon, reaching from one continent to another was not easy, and that was with a single target in mind. Contacting every other primordial dragon in the world at the same time, irrespective of distance? Only Doomwing would be foolish enough to attempt such a thing – and skilled enough to achieve it.

Regal Flame’s gaze scanned the crowd that had assembled. Many dragons had come to watch, but they maintained a respectful distance from Doomwing who stood at the centre of the plateau. If their attention bothered him, he gave no sign of it. Instead, he was content to wait until Regal Flame gave him permission to begin.

It was a courtesy. Magic of the highest level would almost always impact the surrounding area. As the ruler of this area, it would have shamed her if he had acted without her permission. Doomwing could be cruel to those he deemed worthy of contempt, but he was courteous to those who had earned his respect.

Seeing that all of the dragons she expected were present, Regal Flame breathed a short puff of fire into the air. It was the sign for him to begin. Doomwing nodded in acknowledgement and then closed his eyes.

Regal Flame’s brows furrowed. She had expected him to exert his strength immediately, to take the awesome wellspring of power within him and use it to force reality to bend to his demands. That was how dragons wielded magic. They gave orders, and the world obeyed. What Doomwing was doing now was… different.

His power seeped into the area around him, flowing almost gently into the bountiful currents of magic that ran through the plateau. This was no roar that brought the world to heel. This was closer to the communion between dryads and the lands they dwelt in. Her eyes widened as a low murmur of confusion rippled through the crowd. They had yet to sense it, but she could.

Whatever he was doing, the currents of magic had begun to shift – and not just around Doomwing. All of the currents of magic, every single one that ran through the plateau and her domain, began to pulse and hum. And the rhythm they followed belonged not to the world but to Doomwing’s heart. She glanced at Frostfang. He too must have sensed it, for his eyes had also widened. Whatever Doomwing was doing, he had not seen it before either.

Slowly, the murmurs of confusion turned to shock. The others had begun to sense what she and Frostfang had already noticed. Something that was almost a smirk crossed Doomwing’s lips although his eyes remained closed. With all of the currents of magic beating in time with his heart, she waited for him to use his telekinesis. He could seize control of them and shape them into a truly awe-inspiring communication spell.

That was not what he did.

Instead, he kept his eyes closed… and he began to dance.

And the currents of magic moved with him.

“This…” Frostfang hissed.

“Do you recognise it?” Regal Flame asked.

Doomwing’s movements were unfamiliar to her, at least, she’d never seen a dragon make them before. Yet there was something about them, something that tugged at her memories. She was tempted to use memory magic, but it would have been rude to use it while Doomwing was busy. Yes. She had definitely seen movements similar to these before, but where?

“Yes.” Frostfang shook his head and then stilled. “Yes. I do. I saw something similar during the Fifth Age. Amongst the beast-people of that age, there was a group of powerful tiger-people. They did not have the strongest magic, but they found a way to… commune with the currents of magic around them. That allowed them to grow from a small clan to rulers of a powerful nation. This… what Doomwing is doing reminds me of that but with the movements adapted to take into account a dragon’s body.”

“But how could Doomwing have learned such a thing? The tiger-people would have kept such a method secret.” And Regal Flame knew all too well that even amongst those species dragons often looked down upon, there were those who would rather die than share their secrets with dragons.

As Doomwing continued to dance, she grew more and more certain that Frostfang was right. She knew how he fought. She had fought beside him many times. His movements now were different from normal. There was something distinctly feline about them, something unmistakably similar to the tiger-people she’d glimpsed in the past. This was not something Doomwing could have learned through mere observation, no matter how keen his insight. This was something he’d been taught. Yet it was hard to imagine Doomwing setting aside his pride to ask a tiger-person for lessons, and it was harder still to imagine a tiger-person who would have the courage and audacity to teach Doomwing.

As Doomwing’s dance continued, the currents of magic responded with ever-greater enthusiasm. And those same responses were no longer confined to the currents of magic that flowed through the land. The currents of magic that flowed through the sky had begun to mirror them. Just as importantly, what had begun as rough tremors in the currents of magic had turned into finer and finer alterations. His dance was weaving the currents of magic into a communication spell, one whose foundations encompassed her entire domain and the skies above it.

At last, Doomwing fell still, but the currents of magic continued to dance to the sure, steady beating of his heart. He opened his eyes and began to speak, and Regal Flame knew at once that his words would be carried far, far beyond her domain, riding on the currents of magic that flowed through the earth and sky. Turning her attention to the horizon, she could sense the echoes of his dance spreading like ripples across a pond. When they reached the sea, they did not stop. Instead, the currents of magic that flowed through the waters of the world began to move as well.

Even Doomwing didn’t have the strength to spread his words across the entire world. But he didn’t have to. Through his dance, he had asked the world to spread them for him.

And the world had agreed.

Incredible.

Doomwing was satisfied with the message he had sent – both in terms of the words he’d spoken and the strength he’d demonstrated. All dragons, particularly primordial dragons, liked to live near places of power where magic was plentiful. His words would have resounded like thunder in such places, carried by the currents of magic that flowed through the earth, the sea, and the sky. From the very heights of the sky to the very depths of the sea, there was not a single place of power where his words would have gone unheard.

But for now, he was inclined to rest. The technique he’d used was no easy thing, for it was very different to the magic dragons normally wielded. Indeed, in some ways, it could be considered antithetical to their very nature. Yet it was also the best way he could think of to spread his message. Moreover, he knew that his fellow primordial dragons would be baffled by how he had accomplished it. Their curiosity – along with the incentives he’d offered – would give them ample reason to attend the meeting he had called for.

“I hope this place is to your liking.”

Doomwing turned his head. Regal Flame had offered him a lair to use during his stay. “It is more than adequate.” The lair she’d offered him had belonged to one of the great dragons of the First Age, a legend who’d been created not long after her father. As such, it was enormous even by his standards. Naturally, however, no treasure remained. Such things had already been taken elsewhere long ago. Still, the gesture was not without meaning. It showed that he was a guest that she held in the highest esteem. “You have my thanks.”

“It will not be long before the others arrive,” she remarked. “Perhaps only a matter of days.”

“I suspect Stormbringer will be first.” He scowled. “It may be wise to warn the inhabitants of the desert, lest they drown in the rains she brings.”

Regal Flame grinned. “Out of all of us, her name might be the most apt. She told me that on the day she hatched, the weather was clear, without a single cloud in the sky. Yet, when she hatched, a storm arose, and she was greeted not by clear skies but by rain and thunder. That was why he parents named her Stormbringer – because she brought a storm with her.”

Doomwing snorted. “A likely story. She once told me that Tempest Claw herself had suggested the name to her parents. If you ask Frostfang, I suspect he will have heard a different story.”

“Stormbringer has always been mischievous,” Regal Flame replied. “But she is reliable when it matters.”

Doomwing frowned. “That, at least, is true.” For all her foolishness, Stormbringer was not lacking in courage. She had answered each time he called, and she had given her all in every battle, no matter the foe. Whether it was the Lord of the Tides or the Exiled Star, Stormbringer had not taken a backward step. Like the storms she was named after, she was a force of nature. “The others will not come alone.” He inclined his head. “I shall have to impose on you to see to their lodgings and the like.”

Regal Flame waved his worries aside with one wing. “It is no imposition. Meeting here, in my domain, is a great honour. And with that honour come certain responsibilities. Besides, I am more than capable of hosting the others and their followers for a time.”

“Yes. I noticed many things about your domain during our flight, and I have noticed more in the time since.” He paused. Praise had always been awkward for him to give, but she deserved it. “Out of all of us, your domain is the best, and you are the reason it is so.” He remembered the devastation that had been wrought by Soulseeker and his followers during their treachery. Regal Flame’s domain had been in ruins then, yet now, it flourished. That could only have been accomplished through excellent leadership.

Regal Flame blinked in surprise. Doomwing bit back a wince. Was he really so miserly with his praise as to merit such a reaction? A voice in the back of his mind, one that sounded suspiciously like Marcus, reminded him that wasn’t so much miserly with his praise as he was an asshole who usually seemed incapable of giving it. Hmm… now that he thought about it, Marcus had almost certainly spoken precisely those words, and on more than one occasion too.

“Is that so?” Regal Flame said. Her wings and tail stirred restlessly. “Thank you.”

“No thanks are needed. I merely spoke the truth.” He had seen the domains of the other primordial dragons. Some had done very well for themselves. However, none of them could match Regal Flame’s abilities as a leader and administrator. It was not a coincidence that her influence stretched far and wide, and that almost all dragons who were not followers of other primordial dragons looked to her for leadership. “With that in mind, I hope you do not mind if I ask for advice later.”

She stilled her wings and tail. “Of course. I would be happy to offer what wisdom and knowledge I can.” She paused. “Earlier… the magic you used… Frostfang said it was similar to a technique used by a group of tiger-people from the Fifth Age.”

Hmm. He had not expected Frostfang to notice that, but… ah. Yes. Frostfang had spent some time near the beast-people during the Fifth Age while pursuing an ancient artifact that had been lost amidst the floods of the Third Age. “What I did was indeed based on a technique devised by tiger-people.”

“How did you come to learn it?” Regal Flame asked. “I know you spent some time on that continent, but such a technique could not have been learned easily.”

“It was a secret kept by the royal family,” Doomwing replied. “But I was fortunate enough to learn it from someone who had long since cast aside his name and titles. By the time we met, he was a simple monk. He thought that I might one day find it useful. It was… a gift, one of many he gave me. He thought it better to leave it in my hands than to let it be forgotten. It had been used to do great evil, but it had also been used to do great good. He seemed certain I would use it for the latter.”

Regal Flame looked at him, and he was once again reminded that she was deceptively perceptive about matters such as these. Her eyes saw keenly, and her wits were sharp. She was simply tactful enough to know when to speak and when to keep silent. “You must have been good friends.”

“What makes you think we were friends?” he asked although her conclusion was not wrong.

“I know you well, Doomwing. You have your pride. Even if you found the technique fascinating, you would have tried to puzzle it out for yourself if possible. For you to be willing to learn from this person, you must have trusted him and valued his opinion. Moreover, to remember him after all these years, only the greatest of friends or the mightiest of foes would merit such an honour. And from the way you speak of him, he was no foe.”

“Hah!” Doomwing threw his head back and laughed. “Dreamsong is more perceptive than you.” Regal Flame’s eye twitched. “But… I prefer your approach. There are times when it is better to speak around matters and times when it is better to be blunt.” Her lips twitched as if she was trying to hide a smile. “My friend’s name was Brother Tiger, and I travelled with him until he fell in battle. I think he would have liked you.”

“He fell in battle?” Regal Flame asked.

“Yes. Against the followers of the Exiled Star. He died alone but with no wounds upon his back, and not a single enemy entered the trail he defended. It was a death worthy of story and song. A death worthy of a dragon.”

And once again, when she spoke, it was as if she knew the thoughts he kept hidden in his heart. “The death of a friend is a tragic thing, no matter how glorious.” She paused. “This is the first time you’ve ever mentioned Brother Tiger to me.”

In truth, Doomwing preferred to share the story of his time with Brother Tiger with his non-dragon friends. They could understand the story better. For example, he and Ashheart had been friends for a very, very long time. Yet he knew the other dragon would not view the story the way he did. To Ashheart, there would be little reason to mourn. Brother Tiger had found a death worthy of any dragon. That was cause for celebration. After all, Brother Tiger had passed in a manner that even Ashheart would deem worthy of praise. But Regal Flame had many friends who were not dragons, from the long ago days of Mother Tree to now, where despite there being many others who sought the honour, Firetail remained her herald.

“Can you tell me about him?” Regal Flame asked.

“What do you wish to know?”

Her voice held a hint of mischief. “You are Doomwing. All know how high your standards are. For you to call him friend, he must have truly been worth knowing. I’m sure you have many stories to tell.”

He found himself smiling. It was the right answer.

“Very well.” Doomwing settled down and motioned for her to do the same. “But I shall speak no more of how he died. Instead, I shall speak of how he lived.”