"You're not pregnant," Tin snarled, his voice harsh.
Neira chuckled, the sound of her amusement ringing and filling Eni's head. "Of course," the dragon said, but the words were far from reassuring, "I am gravid."
Neira's gaze locked onto Tin, her eyes seeming almost to swallow him as she went on. "Eight eggs slumber; you will remember your part in time," she said.
He growled, the room vibrating with it, but the dragon only smiled.
The expression was as beautiful and as cold as a waterfall in midwinter, and after a moment she turned her mighty head to Eni. "You needn't be envious, leveret," she added smoothly, and Eni's blood felt suddenly sluggish in her veins.
Tin sucked in a sudden breath of air, his pupils constricting as all the fur of his mane stood on end, but Neira paid him no attention. Her focus was entirely on Eni, the dragon as large and implacable as a building. She stared back at Neira's awful eyes, which almost seemed to glow as they reflected the gentle light of the chamber, and swallowed. "Why?" she asked at last, hearing her own unsteadiness, and Neira tapped one massive talon against the floor.
"An excellent question, for all the deficiencies of your language," she said approvingly, "One that is the beginning of all wisdom, but not the focus of your life's work."
The dragon took a step forward, the room's domed ceiling shaking with her passage. "Yet still you can be taught," Neira said, her long neck slowly arcing forward as she brought her enormous head closer to Eni, "It is time for you to learn, as Raxa did."
Eni's heart hammered in her chest as Neira took another step closer, almost losing her balance as the floor trembled. She tipped forward, leaning heavily on her staff, and the floor suddenly changed.
It had turned to pleasantly familiar wooden floorboards, the air suddenly holding the wonderful smell of old books, and Eni knew what she would see even before she looked up. They were standing in her apartment once again, rows of golden tomes lining the shelves, and at her table sat Neira. Eni felt her stomach flip as she looked at their host, her mind first insisting that the dragon had somehow shrunk and then that she herself had somehow grown larger. She could make no sense of what met her gaze; Neira looked precisely as she had just moments before, but fit comfortably in a room she should have been larger than.
Eni felt a stabbing pain in her head as her vision swam; for a moment it was like looking through either end of a telescope simultaneously, Neira both very far away and impossibly close. Her eyelids squeezed instinctively shut, the ground seeming to wobble under her feet, and when she reopened them the worst had passed.
Neira's physical size was greatly reduced, but not her presence; she still seemed to radiate power like a shroud, as though anything that got too close would be consumed. She would have been taller than Aza, had she been standing, but she sat exactly where she had been before, waiting patiently at the head of the table with a crystal glass held delicately between her fingers.
"He once told me that mortals grow weary of standing and craning their necks," she went on, her voice fondly indulgent as she gestured at the empty chairs, "Sit and have your fill."
The table strained under an incredible array of delicacies, and despite herself Eni's mouth watered as she considered the spread. There were foods she had never had since leaving Siverets, her nose filled with the smell of pickled plums and rice vinegar from exquisitely formed omisubi and the rich tang of koiji in a delicate soup. Mixed in with the favorites of her childhood were a peculiar blend of Cradle-style sweets, from stacks of tiny lemon cakes to bowls of pudding filled with cinnamon and raisins. Bottles and carafes filled the gaps, sweating beads of condensation, and above it all Neira looked on expectantly.
Eni sat down uneasily, carefully leaning her staff against the table and putting her satchel on the floor. It made a peculiar metallic clicking sound as its contents knocked against each other, and she frowned. She had the sudden suspicion that it had been altered just as her clothes had, but with the weight of the dragon's gaze upon her she looked up, trying to project a confidence she didn't feel to their host.
Across from her Tin was sitting in his chair so hesitantly that he barely appeared to be touching it, the wolf looking ready to get up in an instant. His paw was clenched tight around the hilt of his whip-sword, but the weapon was wrapped around his waist and no longer drawn. "You must be hungry," Neira said encouragingly, taking a sip from her chalice.
The contents swirled, too immaterial to be a liquid yet too heavy to be vapor, and their gentle glow reflected off the dragon's face. Her scars were almost beautiful in the light, the cruel wounds an undeniable mark of her experience and strength. "I already ate," Eni blurted, feeling instantly foolish as the words left her mouth; her stomach betrayed her with a slight grumble she was sure the dragon could hear.
"And yet your body insists upon food," Neira said mildly, her eyes locking onto Eni's, "Have you ever considered why?"
Eni blinked, stealing a glance at Tin before looking back to the dragon. His face was oddly blank, his expression distant and far away as if in deep contemplation, and Eni groped for something to say. "It's… It's like a mill," she managed at last, "The grindstone needs the waterwheel to turn."
"An apt comparison," Neira replied, "But not one that answers the question."
The dragon's words were perfectly pleasant, but Eni could feel a dangerous edge to them, and she was glad to be sitting down. Her legs had gone rubbery, and her nose was twitching as Neira's displeasure radiated across the table. "I'm sorry," Eni replied, bowing her head, "I don't understand."
For a moment, everything was utterly silent, the dragon's gaze upon her unyielding and her expression unreadable. Eni's heart hammered in her chest, her vision trembling with each beat, and then Neira spoke. "You do," the dragon said firmly, "I expect an answer when we return to the topic."
Shards of ice seemed to be pressing themselves through Eni's veins, chilling her to her core, but Neira only tapped one finger against the table. The sound was oddly heavy, as though it had been the blow of a trip hammer, and in front of Eni her plate and mug filled themselves. The food didn't move out of the serving bowls, or seem to fade into existence; it was as though it had always been there and she had somehow never noticed.
Eni forced herself to pick up an omisubi, her fingers shaking so badly that she almost squeezed the perfect triangle of rice in half, and brought it to her mouth. Her belly was leaden with fear but the taste of it on her tongue made her eyes widen in disbelief. The flavor was sharp and yet balanced, the sour and salty tastes mellowed by the rice, but there was more to it than that.
It was her father's recipe.
She remembered how proud he had been, how his cooking had always been different from any of the other families in Siverets, and couldn't bear any more. Her eyes suddenly welled up, blinding her, and her chest ached. She chewed mechanically, unable to either savor the bite or spit it out, and when she swallowed her throat was so tight that it hurt. She looked down at her plate, the other pieces of food splattered with tears, and was overcome by the certainty that they were all the same. Each and every one would be a memory that she had thought lost forever, a dish she could never have again, and the room spun around her.
"You remember a father," Neira said gently, her voice seeming to come from both very far away and from within Eni's head, "The All-King does not."
Eni blinked rapidly, her thoughts slow and clumsy as she looked at Tin. He was frowning, his brow furrowed and troubled, but he didn't deny the dragon's claim. "Would you like to know why?" Neira asked, slowly running one finger around the rim of her glass.
Eni hesitated, her curiosity warring with her desire to protect Tin from whatever awful words the dragon would say, but he nodded stiffly. "Yes," she croaked, and Neira smiled, leaning back.
"I've shown you eight Dracrysts, waiting only to be united with the eggs within me," Neira said, "I appear before you, my body and essence in perfect harmony. What, then, can you deduce of the tenth?"
It was a question that required no contemplation, and Eni answered at once. "It's in Tin," Eni said softly.
"If you insist upon such an imprecise name," the dragon replied, "It was placed in a Misborn to form a child."
"Do you feel crippled, All-King?" Neira asked suddenly, turning to Tin before her words could even fully register with Eni, "To have all your strength but not the body to bear it?"
"Never wanted power," Tin murmured, but he sounded unsure of himself, his voice halting and weak, and Neira looked pleased for a moment before he continued in a louder voice.
“Just enough to end you.”
"You wanted him like this," Eni blurted, the words tumbling out of her mouth as the realization struck her and she tried desperately to fill the silence, "You wanted him weaker than you; you're afraid of Vanargand!"
The gentle golden glow of the books faded for an instant, and Neira's attention turned calmly back to Eni. The dragon's face was serene, her eyes mild, but Eni felt such an incredible pressure against her body that it was like being crushed beneath a boulder. She struggled to breathe, her chest feeling utterly incapable of movement, and her paws were pinned against the table's surface. She couldn't even twitch her fingers, the force building until she was sure they would snap, and then Neira spoke.
"Do not speak to me of fear, leveret," she said, the words acid bright as they burned their way through Eni's mind, "Not when you understand so little of it yourself. You dare imagine that you comprehend solitude?"
Eni found herself floating in an unfathomable void, utterly weightless and yet unbearably heavy, and as she stared in horror at the darkness realized that it wasn't empty space. She was looking into Neira's pupil, her own body such an insignificant speck that she couldn't make out the blazing iris that surrounded it. Eni cried wordlessly, but even her voice was lost, too thin and small for her own ears to make out. There was nothing but the pounding of Neira's heart, vibrating every ounce of Eni's being, and her mind felt peeled open and raw. She was like a book, helpless to prevent herself from being read, and—
"There is much for you to learn," Neira said, the dragon's voice conversational.
Her apartment had returned, and Eni was sitting down once more, gasping for air as her entire body shook. "The All-King is not a being to be trifled with, as I have warned more than once," she went on, her tone soothing even though her words were anything but, "He corrupted the purest of us, and if I allowed myself to be similarly corrupted there could be no further attempts at pulling my beloved free."
"Further attempts?" Eni repeated numbly, and Neira looked disappointed.
"Such casual arrogance," she said, "You devoted your life to your search, for what few pitiful decades it comprised. You pulled at dozens of investigative threads, following each to their dead ends. Did you suppose I would give up if my efforts here and now are fruitless?"
"No," Eni whispered, and the dragon smiled.
"If I must try again, his disposition will be much more pleasant on the next attempt," she replied, "Now, what is your answer?"
Protests died on Eni's tongue; she knew that pleas for mercy would be useless against the dragon. She looked down, from her own plate of food with a single bite missing and then across the table to where Tin sat. His own meal was completely untouched, and Eni began speaking, not daring to think about the words. "You…" she began slowly, feeling the full weight of Neira's expectations, "You weren't asking about mortals in general, were you? You meant me."
The dragon didn't respond, but her attention seemed to sharpen, her eyes gleaming with interest. "And… And…" Eni stammered, excitement and terror warring in her heart, "And that's a good question. The Slayer barely needed to eat or sleep during the Scourge. He…"
Eni managed to turn her head away from Neira and looked to Tin. "You haven't eaten anything in days," she said slowly but with absolute certainty.
"Haven't been hungry," Tin said, but he looked unsettled, as though it had occurred to him for the first time how long he had gone without filling his belly.
"And the reason for that…" Eni replied, trailing off as the awful truth occurred to her, "It was you. You've been… absorbing the theurgy of monsters. That's… It's why you haven't needed to eat lately, not with all the Begotten."
"No," Tin said, shaking his head, but Neira cut in.
"Yes."
Her word was final and absolute, and Eni felt as though if she tried to open her mouth to speak nothing would come out. "She saw it herself when you ended the Misborn's misery," Neira said, her unblinking gaze fixed on Tin, "Tell him."
"I… I did see something," Eni admitted quietly, "When he died, it was like…"
"All he ever was or would be, the little spark of life in even the most bestial of beings," Neira finished, "Consumed, as the All-King desires."
"I would know," Tin protested, but there was no certainty to his voice, "I would."
"You leave your power untouched and that is your expectation?" the dragon replied scornfully, and the wolf fell silent, his head downturned.
"Now, finish your answer," Neira commanded, turning back to Eni.
"I… I need to eat because I haven't mastered my magic," Eni replied, and the dragon's approval washed over her like the sun coming out from behind a cloud.
"Very good," she said, "Your teacher is well aware, and yet mistrusts the lessons he doesn’t comprehend himself, fearful of the repercussions of understanding. Your body has bound your mind to its rigid desires; you will learn how to sever those shackles."
"What does that mean?" Eni asked, although she wondered if she really wanted to know the answer.
Neira's face turned thoughtful, the expression strangely wistful. "Raxa's journals may prove to be a useful resource," she said, gesturing at one wall of the reproduction of Eni's apartment.
The gleaming golden tomes on the indicated bookshelf bore strange sigils on their spines, and as Eni looked at them the symbol burned itself into her head. She could see Abraxas at the heights of his power, the Aberrant hare tall and proud as he walked the land. His antlers gleamed, their tines capped with precious metals, and his limbs were full and strong as he ambled along, filled with a burning curiosity and an overwhelming love.
Eni's mouth opened as she felt who he was pouring through her; he lacked the strength of Neira or any of the Dracrysts, but there was something to him that was undeniably pleasant. He cared for the world with every fiber of his being, but there was something even greater in his eyes, someone he—
"Unless you would prefer to begin with what I've returned to you," Neira said, her words interrupting Eni's reverie as the dragon gestured at her satchel.
It was on the floor where Eni had left it as she sat down, and she picked it up, opening it as she obeyed the unstated command. Her journal was still on top of everything else, but the bag had become surprisingly empty. The food and rope from Altogar were gone, as were all her spare shirts and trousers. All that was left was the badge of office the Archivist had given her, the metal glittering in the light, and two books. One of them was the copy of The Lamentations of Nergora she had taken from Ceslaus's home what felt like a lifetime ago.
The other was Wordermund's lexicon.
Its metal cover was flawless, showing not a single scratch or sign of age, and there was no doubt in Eni's mind as to what she was looking at. She didn't dare touch it, not even with her gloved paw, and she looked up at Neira. "Why?" Eni asked, and the dragon's face remained enigmatic.
"The next question I expect your answer for," Neira replied, "I—"
The dragon stopped abruptly, and there was something supremely unsettling about her voice. She didn't sound like a mammal being interrupted; her speech had simply ceased all at once with a firmness like a heavy tome being closed. "There is another matter I must attend to," she continued smoothly after a seemingly endless moment, "You may come along; I am sure you will find it instructive."
The dragon got up from the table, and all at once Eni found herself standing, her satchel on her back and her staff in one paw. Tin was at her side, his body tense and his face bewildered, and he stayed close to her as Neira stepped forward.
The simulacra of Eni's apartment seemed to fall apart, as though it had only been a bit of stage dressing for a play, but even as it collapsed there was an undeniable solidity to it. For a moment, Eni caught a glimpse of Terregor itself beyond and somehow through the walls, as though she could see everything all at once. The city was exquisite in every detail, a perfect replica of how she had always remembered it, and it vanished much too soon.
They were once more surrounded by floating Dracrysts, a massive domed ceiling overhead and a floor of smoothly polished marble underfoot, but the vast chamber was not as Eni had last seen it. Thick cables of something reddish-black connected the Dracrysts like the web of a spider, crisscrossed in a way that almost seemed to be a pattern and yet was too organically chaotic. The strands were each at least as thick around as Eni's arms, harshly striated and taut, and where they met at the center of the chamber was a horrific mass of flesh.
It writhed, the fibers connecting it to the Dracrysts vibrating with discordant bass notes, and where it actually made contact with the glowing orbs it was burning. Plumes of foul-smelling smoke boiled off, the ends of the cables red-hot, and Eni recoiled before the awful sight.
"There is nothing that happens in Invermir without my notice," Neira said, the dragon once more her full size.
She loomed over the terrible mess, her eyes narrowed and hard as she glared down at the center of the web. To Eni's amazement, four eyes stared back at her, four unblinking eyes set in the twisted core that connected the Dracrysts together that were undeniably familiar.
"Zathos?" Eni asked, unable to look away.
The monster was larger than she had ever seen it and in a far more alien shape, but even as strange as it had become it was still recognizable. It was as though it had turned into one of the giant sea-creatures sailors told tales about, something with far too many limbs and a boneless body. A gash unfurled below the eyes, reshaping itself into a mouth, and then it spoke.
"I apologize for the deception, Archivist," Zathos said, "It was necessary for my attempt to avoid the Expectant Mother's attention."
Eni could only gape at it, her mind unable to conceive how it could have possibly survived its plunge into magma, but as she stared into its face the answer came to her. "You shed your outer layer, didn't you?" she asked, "When I saw you fall… Your eyes weren't glowing. That was just a… a husk?"
"Correct," Zathos replied, "I created an explosion with a powder keg I acquired in Vornstrom and secreted inside my body."
"A foolish effort, construct," Neira replied scornfully.
The dragon was not touching the monster, but if it had been an animal Eni was sure it would have been in terrible pain; its webbed limbs trembled and pulsed as they burned, evidently unable to either withstand the power of the Dracrysts or let go. "Eraxis had more sentimentality than sense, to send you here," Neira said, "Although divided against herself as she is, I understand why she did not dare make the attempt herself."
"The Wright stands against you," Zathos replied, its eerie voice strangely firm.
"You see?" Neira asked, turning her attention away from the monster and to Eni and Tin, "Note how it speaks, this feeble creation of flawed magic. It cannot say that it stands against me; it lacks the will to do anything but what its master contrives."
Eni had never heard the name Eraxis before, but it was somehow familiar, conjuring up the idea of gentle strength. "And your master is little different," Neira went on, turning back to Zathos, "Hopelessly devoted to her goal; I know she has coveted the Dracrysts just as Vorher did. They insult me with their attempts."
"You cannot be permitted to—"
"Nothing can deny me what is mine," Neira interrupted, her eyes flashing dangerously, "I have permitted much, but no more."
Eni took an instinctive step back, gripping at Tin's arm. She pulled him with her, nearly stumbling over her feet as she backed away from the monster and the dragon, inching closer to one of the Dracrysts near the perimeter of the chamber. "You wish to possess my Dracrysts, construct?" Neira asked, her sharp teeth visible as she enunciated each word, "Then so you shall."
The discordant music of the vibrating cables that formed the monster's body suddenly harmonized as the dragon gestured, rippling with tension and suddenly aligning. Zathos emitted a terrible shriek as its body began shifting, the organic maze of its disparate form reworking itself into something rigidly perfect. Eni could hear flesh straining and breaking as it reformed with none of the monster's usual unsettling grace; it was like watching a sculptor chip away at a block of stone.
The entire process could have only lasted seconds, but it had felt far too long. Eni pressed close against Tin as she held tight to his paw, a Dracryst floating serenely over their heads even as Zathos's connection to it had stopped burning. The monster's flesh had changed consistency; it no longer looked wet but instead as dry and hard as stone, forming a cradle around the massive gem like the beautiful settings of a crown. The confusing tangle had given way to elegant swooping curves that made up a series of interlocking shapes in an exquisite geometric pattern.
Zathos's awful cry had stopped, its mouth frozen open, but its eyes were still alert, two of them looking at Neira and the other two at Eni and Tin. "You will serve as a decoration until every last erg of theurgy has departed your worthless body," the dragon told the monster, her voice harsh and resonant, "I expect it to take centuries, unless the All-King is inclined to help you along."
The monster couldn't move whatsoever, and although Eni had never seen it express any sort of emotion she was sure that there was horror and despair in its gaze. Perhaps it was only what she herself was feeling; Neira had never seemed more powerful, and a paralyzing fear wormed its way through Eni's heart. The dragon's cruelty was hideously casual, untouched by sympathy, and she wondered how long she might last before suffering a similar punishment.
At her side, she could hear Tin's heart beating wildly in his chest, but then it began slowing as he squeezed her paw between hers. "Eni?" he said softly, his eyes meeting hers as he placed his paws on either side of her head and gently tilted it up towards his.
The wolf seemed to have regained some measure of his composure, his vibrantly blue eyes cool as he held her gaze. He was standing so close to her that he was all she could see and feel, so close that she could almost imagine they weren't utterly powerless in the face of a dragon. His musk filled her nose, as sharp as an ocean breeze, and his pulse seemed to beat in time with hers. "You can bring this all down on her," he said, and he brushed the fur out of her eye with one paw, "Know you can."
"I can't," Eni blurted, her heart horribly heavy in her chest, "I can't, it's not… it's—"
"You can," Tin said more firmly, drawing his fingers away, "Just need the right push."
She looked at him in confusion, completely lost, and then suddenly his palms slammed into her chest. She fell at once, skittering along the smooth floor on her back as she cried out in alarm. She caught a glimpse of Zathos's still form and of Neira's impossible bulk as she spun dizzyingly. She managed to lift her head, still helplessly sliding along, and saw Tin's back as he charged forward with his whip-sword drawn.
"Nergorath!" he barked, his voice ringing with fury as the links of his weapon caught fire, and she was bitterly sure that the dragon was completely wrong.
Eni understood fear.
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