An overwhelming weight pressed down upon the king’s mind and he collapsed onto the end of his bed. His thoughts fractured. Words failed him, their meaning entirely lost on him. An acute sting bit into his neck, forcing his hand to the skin. His fingers came away with blood. Where he had disturbed the wound, more blood trickled down his bare chest.
Alijah thought the pattern of those wounds familiar - a bite mark. But he had not been bitten. The thought evaporated in his mind. He tried to grasp at it but he would have had better luck catching smoke in his hands. With what focus he was able to maintain, the half-elf waved his hand through the air and conjured a mirror image of himself.
He looked dreadful. His face was bruised and swollen, his eyes bloodshot. Raking wounds marred his skin, the flesh torn. He even possessed what looked like a burn on his right hip.
“I don’t understand,” he muttered.
The oppression on his mind increased. Alijah leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, his head bowed. Malliath oozed soothing emotions across their bond.
You were injured in the battle, the dragon purred. You were injured by Inara Galfrey. She challenged you. They all challenged you. Yet you endured. You wear your wounds with pride and honour, for you have done what no other could. You have changed the world.
Alijah straightened and examined his mirror image. The blood streaking down his chest faded from view, as if it had never been there. Indeed, he could not recall whatever had drawn his attention to his neck, for there was only a dark bruise there now. Only the burn on his hip remained, but he suddenly remembered Inara casting the spell that had scorched him. The swelling across his face even eased, returning some of his chiselled features.
You see, Malliath whispered in his mind.
Yes, Alijah replied absently. I suffer from the battle.
You suffer because of your sister! Malliath fumed, snapping the king from his haze. I have seen your memories. You faltered in the realm of magic, the dragon scolded. Inara Galfrey should be dead!
Alijah waved a hand through his own image and it faded to mist. Burning the tree was the priority. Verda’s future is finally assured.
Malliath filled more of his mind, shrinking the half-elf’s surroundings. You let our enemy live! The first time our bond is compromised and you reveal your weaknesses.
“I have no weaknesses!” Alijah yelled.
You are a man! Malliath provoked. You are riddled with weakness!
Alijah lashed out with magic and blew the windows out of his chamber. “I am a dragon!” he roared.
Yes! Malliath roared, expressing his pleasure. We are to be the only dragons in the realm. As such, we have no sisters or parents. There are no ties, blood or otherwise, that bind us. When next you meet another Galfrey, you will destroy them.
His chest heaving and heart thundering, Alijah nodded along to his companion’s edict. “We are dragons,” he breathed.
Malliath’s presence relaxed in his mind. What now, king?
Alijah draped himself in a heavy fur cloak and left his chamber as it filled with snow. Now we wait, he replied. The tree is burning as we speak. With each passing moment, magic retreats from the world. Bereft of this gift, Vighon and his rebellion will lose all hope as they watch their most powerful allies fall into shadow. The elves will likely lose any sense of self and seek shelter in their homeland.
The king gritted his teeth, bearing the pain that begged him to rest. Then, when the world is at its darkest, we shall emerge from these mountains and remind the realm who wears the crown. After we purge The Rebellion’s remnants, including my sister and Vighon, we can finally get to the business of peace.
I fear you have taken refuge in the future, Malliath said. The land and its people - our people - do not stand united. The capital flies the banner of the flaming sword, The Arid Lands is restless without a clear leader, and The Rebellion’s forces are amassed in the heart of the realm.
Alijah paused in the hallway and turned his mind inward. He reached out to his Reavers, detecting the bulk of them on the east road, having just passed Darkwell. They would enter the valley of The Vrost Mountains soon and stand guard at the base of The Bastion. Beyond them, he could feel hundreds more scattered throughout the realm, patrolling cities and towns.
He left them all to their tasks and focused on The Moonlit Plains. There were but three of his knights with enough life in them to grant him their eyes. They were severely mutilated, missing most of their limbs and all three were pinned down by the scores of bodies that had been piled on top of them. Of the trio, only one could see the snowy fields and even the camp of rebels.
Look, Malliath, the king bade, drawing the dragon in. They are in disarray. They have been beaten and broken and they feel it. When the truth sinks in, when they accept their fate, they might even lay down their swords and beg for our forgiveness.
And would you have us grant it? Malliath enquired.
Alijah displayed a wicked grin. Dragons do not forgive. They devour.
Indeed. But do not underestimate our enemy. Until magic has fled the world and our dominance over the sky and land is assured, they remain a threat.
We will keep a watch over them, Alijah reassured. And we will do so from the safety of The Bastion. Let the realm breathe for a moment. Uncertainty breeds unrest and unrest breeds violence. The Rebellion has shattered this country and soon every man, woman, and child will see that. I want them to reject Vighon in their hearts. I want them to despise him and everything he stands for. Then, when the fires rise, we will return to restore peace. There will be no dragons to
