“Sia?” he called from the entrance.
“King Ashiyn. You may enter,” the scribe’s ghostly voice echoed down the small hallway to them.
“Soryn was injured,” Ashiyn shifted Soryn’s weight as he talked. Soryn’s skin was grey, and his breaths were nearly imperceptible.
There was a long pause before the eerie voice spoke again. “Why am I not surprised? You may bring him.”
Ashiyn ducked into the hallway, almost too tall for it, and carried Soryn carefully down the winding tunnel. It opened into a vast magical library. Books danced through the air from shelf to shelf and desk to desk. He dodged a few of them in annoyance and tried to figure out where the eye of the book-storm was.
“It is very dangerous to be your friend, King Ashiyn.”
Ashiyn jumped at the ghost’s voice just behind him, then whirled around. Sia floated there with a displeased expression on his face. “I don’t have time to banter, Sia. I know, you told me so. Please just see to Soryn. He’s hurt.”
“Yes, yes. He is. Dying, in fact.” Sia tilted his head, resting his chin on his ghostly hand.
Ashiyn glared at him. He turned to the nearest desk and used his magic to blow the piles of books and papers off.
“Hey,” Sia started to protest, and floated forward to try to grab some of the papers.
Ashiyn ignored him and laid Soryn on the desk. Then he stepped back and pointed at his friend. “If you want to continue your meager existence, fix him.”
Sia’s face lost any warmth it had held, and his eyes narrowed. “All you had to do was ask nicely, Ashiyn. No need for threats here. Do you even know how to ask without demanding?” He adjusted his ghostly spectacles then floated over to Soryn and started looking him over. “I did warn you that Sihtaar devoured celestials, did I not?”
“Can you fix him?” Ashiyn growled, crossing his arms.
Sia turned to raise a brow at Ashiyn. “Oh. He is important to you. That is most interesting. Does the cold King Ashiyn finally care about something other than himself?”
“Imagine the torment you will endure if he dies if that is the case.” Ashiyn narrowed his eyes, his magic crackling over his arms. “I have never tortured a spirit, but I am sure I could find some way to do so.”
“Right. How fortunate for our friend here that I have not lost my healing magic despite my current state,” Sia murmured and turned away. He rested his ghostly hands on Soryn’s chest and closed his eyes. After a few moments, he jolted in place and looked at Ashiyn in horror. “I thought I was jesting that Sihtaar had done this. You released the god-dragon?”
“After. Heal him, damn it,” Ashiyn snarled. Sia was the world’s most talented healer, even in death, but he had the focus of a mouse.
“Well, if you’d be quiet, I could focus!” Sia shot back then closed his eyes again. The purple of his aura slowly covered Soryn’s body.
Ashiyn grimaced as he heard the magic snapping bones back into place. Color slowly returned to Soryn’s skin and his breathing became regular.
Sia floated away from Soryn then, his project already forgotten, as he stroked his ghostly beard. He flitted from shelf to shelf. “Magic, show me the books that mention Sihtaar.”
Books started flying off the shelves and floating in front of Sia, pages flipping. Too rapidly for Ashiyn to read any of it, so he walked over to the desk instead and shook Soryn’s shoulder. “Soryn, wake up.”
Soryn’s dark eyes opened, full of confusion. “Ashiyn? What happened? I had the strangest dream.”
“That I attacked Seraphine, Ember killed her, then died by Sihtaar and released the god-dragon from his prison?” Ashiyn snorted. “Sorry, as crazy as that all sounds, not a dream.”
Soryn sat up, horrified. “We released Sihtaar?”
“Correction, my idiot son released Sihtaar.” Ashiyn turned away, crossing his arms and watching Sia.
“You left Ember there,” Soryn said, his voice still shocked.
“I could only save one of you. Ember seemed to be convinced that the sword could kill me. If Sihtaar can truly kill immortals there was no guarantee he was coming back. And he betrayed me, again. As is his lot in life. You, on the other hand, have never done that. The choice was rather obvious, was it not?” Ashiyn shrugged. “I suppose I should be grateful that Sihtaar did not just eat you outright, seeing as you are a celestial.”
Soryn slid off the desk slowly. He reached out to steady himself with a hand on Ashiyn’s shoulder. “I am the last. Sihtaar consumed the others. I am all that is left of their power.”
“Sihtaar: A demi-god who prefers the form of a giant dragon. Feasts upon blood and life-force. Insatiable. The threat level to the world: Ten,” Sia read from a book then spun to face them, waving his hands in exasperation. “Ten?! Threat level ten? As if our world wasn’t already in post-apocalypse, you bring another one?! Ten is the highest there is!”
“I didn’t do it!” Ashiyn grumbled, annoyed.
“You are the one that has been feeding it for three-thousand years,” Soryn mumbled.
Ashiyn glared at him. “How was I supposed to know that an evil god lived in the sword? I don’t remember anyone specifying the creature was that dangerous or that it could get out of the sword.”
Soryn just shrugged, a smile tugging at his lips to show he was teasing.
Ashiyn rolled his eyes. “We know he’s going to destroy the world, Sia. We need to know how
