“You really talk,” I whisper before I can stop myself.
Her crippled wings flare in a display of dominance, though the sigh of its twisted parts makes me wince. She snarls, golden eyes locked on me with dangerous intent.
“I also breathe ash.” Hot air washes over my face, searing my skin.
I shut my eyes, and cough. Whatever’s keeping my Decay magic dormant isn’t strong enough to hold it back much longer. I can already feel it stirring again, pushing to the surface. Whatever the dragon is doing, it won’t contain it for much longer.
I think she knows it too, because she increases the pressure on my arms. “Will you help her?” she growls into my mind.
“I’ll consider it if you get off me first,” I mutter, squirming beneath her weight.
The dragon bares her teeth inches from my face, then retreats, folding herself back on her haunches. I sit up, heart still pounding, and despite everything, the childish thrill of hearing a dragon speak outweighs every other thought.
I can’t stop the grin that spreads across my face as we sit against each other. A low rumble reverberates from the dragon as she narrows her eyes at my amusement.
“Sorry,” I say, still smiling. “It’s just comforting to know I’m not the only one with a mouthy Godbeast who’s capable of nagging his Champion about everything she’s doing wrong.”
But as the last word leaves my lips, my smile falters. The weight that settles in the dragon’s golden eyes is too heavy to make light of.
“How are you still here?” I ask. “You were supposed to return once…” I stop, the rest catching in my throat. Saying ‘once your Champion lost’ feels cruel, like pressing a bruise.
The dragon exhales sharply, a puff of smoke curling from her nostrils. I swear her expression—if you can call it that—looks suspiciously like a stubborn refusal to answer. It reminds me of Peonica, which somehow makes me both fond of her and deeply irritated.
I push to my feet and brush off the dirt. “If you want my help, I’m not wasting time on riddles. Not when there’s too much at stake. You’re clearly desperate?—”
She moves, her jaws snap inches from my face. I stumble back, hands raised in instinctive surrender. Not that I feel truly threatened. No, this is not true hostility.
“All I’m saying,” I continue, keeping my voice steady, “is that my time and resources are running thin. So if you want my help, I’ll need your honesty. Take it or leave it.”
I plant my feet wide, arms crossed in the same stance Kaelzar uses when he’s about to win an argument by sheer willpower alone. Maybe I can borrow a sliver of his presence.
The dragon rises to her full height. We lock gazes for what feels like an eternity before she finally relents, her tail sweeping the dirt in a violent arc.
“I cannot leave yet,” she says, her voice curling through my mind. “Velskan entrusted me with a task I’m yet to complete.”
What could the God of Traversing and Lust possibly need that his dragon has to fetch for him? I raise an eyebrow, waiting. If she thinks that’s enough of an answer, she’s sorely mistaken.
Her tail scrapes the ground again before she continues. “Normally, the Godbound thread begins with the god, runs through the Champion, and ends with the Godbeast, like a rope. Simple enough for you to grasp, I trust?” she says in a patronizing tone.
I chew on my cheeks not to snap back and simply nod.
“But Velskan made it flow through me first,” she says, “and then to Seraphina, so that if his Champion lost the Trial, the connection would still hold.When the Sphere cuts the thread, it usually severs both Champion and Godbeast in a single stroke. But because Velskan twisted the design, it only cut her loose.”
The dragon fixes me with a long, unblinking stare. I can practically feel her judging whether I’ve managed to keep up. Then, with the air of a teacher repeating a very simple lesson for a very slow pupil, she leans in, her voice rises in my mind.“She’s no longer Godbound,”she enunciates,“but I still am.”
Her golden eyes narrow, daring me to ask more. Something tellsme she won’t answer, no matter how hard I push.
Still, a quiet instinct gnaws at me. Whatever Velskan wants, it might be something that could help me contain, or at least control, Calista once she rises to power. After all, don’t all gods despise her as much as Kaelzar and I do?
But if I’ve learned anything from all those weeks with Kaelzar, it’s that trust and secrets take time. For now, this is enough. Maybe once I help her, she’ll decide I’ve earned more.
“Fine,” I say. “How can I help?”
The slit of her pupil tightens as she studies me in silence. Then the dragon moves to the side, her gaze shifts toward a patch of dense brush.
“She hasn’t spoken since the last challenge,” her mournful voice echoes inside my skull.
I follow with my eyes to where she gestured. At first, I see only greenery. But as I step closer, the shape resolves. A body, curled gently at the roots of a tree as if placed there with care.
