“You don’t go around slicing shadows from every bystander or stray kitten, do you?” I ask.
His look turns sharp, his lips pulling into a thin line. “I seek things with greater utility.”
Just like the fireplace shadow I am now wrapped in. “And each shadow you take holds the properties of its owner, like this fireplace’s shadow?”
“The night owns the shadows,” he says, conviction firm in his voice, and begins walking again. I quickly follow. “Not their bearer. But they— the bearers— are called an Origin. Each piece retains something of its Origin, though I can’t always tell what I’m taking. Some shadows are more potent than others. Some take so much that death becomes a mercy.”
I recoil slightly at his words. A shadow should be nothing, only absence, only darkness. But in his hands, they have power.
“So that massive shadow that blocked out the sky was once alive?” I ask.
“A stray dragon of Elysium,” he replies with a nod. “Most weredomesticated by the gods centuries ago. But some escaped into the wilds. Over time, they bred and changed, their old abilities to fly and spew molten death returning.”
He watches the horizon for a moment before continuing. “They usually keep their distance, far from the Elysium territories the gods have claimed for themselves. Most just want to be left alone, forgotten. But sometimes, one goes feral and crosses the boundary.” His voice lowers. “It was my job to deal with the ones that entered Calista’s lands.”
My mind spins, struggling to grasp how he could face a dragon and win.
If he can kill a dragon, what chance would I have?
What could I, only human, do if he ever turned against me?
But for now, he’s bound to my will. I cling to that thought, taking comfort in the hope that his immense strength might join with whatever courage I can summon. Maybe, together, we’ll be enough to stand against the other Champions.
Fascination mingles with unease as my gaze drifts to him again, to the strange stillness in his expression. There’s none of the hollow submission I’ve seen in the other Godbeasts—those broken, tamed dragons brought from the gods’ realm, their wings crippled in different ways which makes me wonder who breaks them, and why.
Yet Kaelzar isn’t like them. His magic is separate from the goddess he serves, his power his own.
And if one like him exists, are there others? Why was he chosen by Calista? Why would he be at her service if she rotted his mother? The questions spiral, dizzying and dangerous, until I force myself to hold on to just one.
“What are you?” I ask quietly, hesitant. When no answer comes, I turn to face him. “Please, Kaelzar. I want to understand.”
This time, I don’t command him to speak. I wait, testing whether he’ll choose to.
For a moment, my words linger in the air, with only our footsteps breaking the silence. Then, Kaelzar’s gaze snaps to mine, a cold, dangerous warning flickering in the depths of his gray eyes.
A heartbeat. Then another. His body tenses, muscles coiled as though holding back the force of a storm. I think I see the chains across his chest shift. So slight, so unnatural that I might have imagined it. I hold my breath, waiting for the flood of words, for the rebuke I’m certain will follow, just for daring to ask.
But instead, Kaelzar closes his eyes, drawing in a slow, controlled breath. When he opens them again, the fire is gone.
“We’re descendants of the God of Night and Stars and his human consort,” he says, leaving me momentarily stunned. “Right before the gods sealed the portal between realms, Calista stole Azrakel’s five children from your world and brought them to Elysium with her.”
I hurry to catch up with his wide strides, my mind reeling. “You mean… kidnapped them? From their homes? Why?”
“He was her husband. He abandoned her, betrayed her,” Kaelzar says. “In her fury, she destroyed his true body while he possessed a human host. It killed Azrakel instantly. Then she cursed your people.” He glances at me. “But that only made things worse. Your people turned against her. Worship stopped. Without their prayers, she grew weak, nearly powerless compared to the other gods.
“When the gods were driven from this realm and could no longer touch it,” he continues, “each carried a group of humans into their dominions in Elysium. Calista did the same. Yet rather than grant them peace, she threw them in with Azrakel’s stolen children and bound them inside an enchanted forest with no way out.”
Shock rushes through me. The gods didn’t just end the existence of the wild dragons and abandon this realm, they stole people too. My pulse spikes.
History books never offered a single clear reason for why the wild dragons turned on the gods during the Skyburn War, why they chose to sacrifice their own existence to banish them from this realm. The most common theory claimed they’d simply grown tired of watching the gods plunder their eggs and domesticate their offspring. But that never felt like enough to justify a war so catastrophic.
But if this revelation is any indication of the truth, then I wholly agree with their choice.
Kidnapping people from their homes isn’t just cruel, it’s barbaric. And it should never have been allowed.
Kaelzar must see the outrage on my face, because he nods, whether in confirmation or approval of my horror, I don’t know.
“For centuries, those people and Azrakel’s descendants lived in that forest, cut off from the rest of Elysium, from their history, their origins, until they knew nothing else but Calista as their ruler and the enchanted forest teeming with deadly monsters. Once, I asked her why she didn’t try for something better. There was talk of a prosperous place beyond all godly territories.”
