We’ve hit some kind of ultra-massive unity, where everything we are is now shared between every other. My Bloodwalker power is shared, as well;I feel how each of my drakes is a Bloodwalker now, and will always be, even after this ritual ends.
As all our powers amalgamate with that endless, universe-expanding, explosive high, I feel us get thrust into a vast vision together. United forever now, our five Bloodwalker auras hone in on something important happening far back down upon the earth.
Even as we remain in the Sanctum, our auric bodies are thrust right back down into the black cavern of the Rift, just as they were a few times now when we’ve been brought out into the stars all together like this.
Just as before, we see Lithava getting it on with her drakes, as they complete the last part of Hedda’s second ceremony with the Black Dragon. King Huttr’s limp form lies off to one side, and I can’t tell if he’s dead or alive. I watch Lithava and her drakes hit their climax, Hedda’s black soul boiling up out of Lithava’s ring as it abandons her completely now, and dives into her beast.
But as Hedda’s ruined soul returns to her creature at last, Lithava and her drakes suddenly cannot access Hedda and her mates’ power anymore. The Black Dragon roars in insane torment now as Hedda’s malevolent spirit becomes one with it.
Devoured by its own insanity, the Usurper bashes its head against the cavern walls, unhinged. Flailing, the Black Dragon demolishes columns as even more of the broken ceiling comes caving down.
The creature has achieved its complete power now—and its complete madness—as it roars its heart-stopping curses everywhere, just like it did in the battle of Stockholm. As I watch, I understand that returning the Black Dragon Five to it has given the creature full access to the hundreds of thousands of souls trapped inside it now.
And full access to their insanity, as they scream inside its diabolical Void; as the Black Dragon bursts with ruinous dark fire in a roaring cyclone, filling the cavern, Lithava and her drakes are endangered.
No longer channeling the power of Hedda and her drakes, they heaveup a shield of black fire all around themselves, to protect their exhausted human bodies from the Black Dragon’s devastation.
But there is no protecting anyone from this. The Usurper goes wild now, swinging its head like a battering ram and roaring in utter insanity now inside its cyclone of power.
I watch in horror as Lithava and her drakes’ small shield gets hit square-on by the creature’s all-consuming roar. It shatters; there is no withstanding the Black Dragon’s fullest might, even for those who reawakened it.
As that blast makes black sigils spiral all through Lithava and her drakes now, it dives in to curse their hearts. I feel energy suddenly get hauled out of me in a riptide, then.
Me, and all my drakes.
Power is torn out of us in an ocean of insanity now, as we fall out of the cosmos. My drakes and I plummet back into our bodies, writhing and gasping upon the cracked flagstones. We roar, not in bliss now from what’s happening, but in utter agony from how terribly we’re all being drained.
Because we still wear our silver rings from Aesa, resonating with the black. And Hedda’s rings are draining us to death now, as they resonate with the ones we’re wearing.
The Two Rings, ever the unmaker of such high-level magics.
Lærke is the only one who does not wear a ring. She heaves in now, ripping Aesa’s silver rings from our fingers as we fight to stop being drained to death by how hard the black rings have pulled from us, to keep Lithava and her drakes alive.
I gasp as my ring is liberated. I can think again, breathe again, as Lærke rushes to get Ström’s next. But our mistake in waiting too long to get rid of our rings has been made. We’ve been drained nearly to death to keep Lithava and her drakes alive after the Usurper’s heart-curse hit them, thanks to the Two Rings’ resonance.
All our power with our Bloodwalking ritual snapped out.
As we gasp and writhe upon the stones, in torturous pain from what’s happened, I hear braying laughter crash through my mind. It’s Hedda’s, coming from the Black Dragon’s Void, to which I am still somewhat tethered, as I hear her now laughing at us.
She’s laughing at the vast mistake we made, keeping those rings on to unite our Bloodbond, while avoiding the truth. The truth that we’ve not just been protecting ourselves with them, but protecting our enemies, too.
And have resurrected our enemies now, keeping them alive when they would have perished from the Black Dragon’s blast.
Laughing at us, Hedda’s thoughts are crystal clear as they reach me now from within the beast.
See how my Jormungandr rises!Hedda’s jubilant voice fills me, her caustic laughter thundering all through my chest as she celebrates.The last ceremony of the Black Dragon has begun. Come, Bloodwalker, and control my creature; bring our Lineage to glory, rather than destruction, at last. For this is why I have groomed you to wield my Jormungandr, completing our Ancestor’s ancient agenda. Unify us into our true nature, ascendant. Or watch the world fall, as my creature tears everything you love apart. The choice is yours.
As the Black Dragon roars its unstoppable supremacy to the world, I watch it take off. Flying high above the cavern of the Rift, it roars again—its terrible power exploding everywhere now, as the seething tentacles of the Black Rift explode out with it.
Heart-cursing ropes of oilslick black death thrust far and wide to kill every soul everywhere. Everything around it catches fire. The diseased black ropes of the Usurper kill the very earth they touch; as the Black Dragon’s ropes seethe over the land and scorch the earth a caustic crimson-black, the Rift’s leviathan taint explodes out with it, ravaging everything like a cancer.
Like dual jaws consuming the world, its madness is terrible. I watch those ropes explode out so far now I can’t even see where they end. Thebowl of the broken valley is consumed by darkness. As the Black Dragon roars, that valley is scorched by fire.
Oilslick-black fire, which devours everything.
Horror takes me as I fall back into my body with the rest of my drakes, protected and supported by Lærke. She is the strongest among us right now, as we shudder and shake in pure terror of what we’ve just witnessed, exhausted beyond anything we’ve felt yet, from how the power of the Two Rings razed us.
But despite how everything has just gone to shit, and the shudder of death I feel in my bones, Ström takes my hand. As Bjorn grips my middle, growling like a beast into my shoulder, and Mikkel seizes my hip, gripping his fingers in like talons as he snarls, Baldur kisses my neck, rumbling a sub-sonic, cosmic roar deep into my belly and chest.
