The ranger tried to get up and walk towards her but the pain in his hip brought him down again. Avandriell hurried to his side and nuzzled her head into his chest, where he was apparently very bruised. He patted her scales and eased her away before attempting to rise again. On his feet, if a little hunched, Asher surveyed the bodies scattered across the stable, two of which were on fire. There was one, though, who continued to move, if very slowly.
Sensing his disdain, Avandriell bounded and pounced until she was blocking Veda’s way to the doors. The dragon lowered her head to the Father’s and growled at him, baring her gore-coated fangs. Avandriell knew everything that had happened to Asher in Nightfall. She knew that it was men like Veda that had tormented her companion and twisted who he was to fit their needs. It brought out her wrathful side.
“Wait,” Asher croaked, limping across the stable.
Asher reached down and unceremoniously retrieved his silvyr blade from Veda’s gut. The Father cried out in agony and curled up in a ball, though there was nothing he could do to stop the blood loss now.
Looking down at the pathetic man, the ranger’s vision blurred, creating two images of the Father. Asher touched his fingers to his head and discovered a decent amount of blood on his hairline. He had no idea when that particular blow had struck him, but he knew a blackout was coming his way and soon.
“Just do it,” Veda moaned. “Or get your… pet to do it. Whatever helps… your conscience, traitor. Just know… you will always be… one of us. Killing me… killing all of us… just proves that… you were the best of us…”
His blade gripped in hand and pointed at Veda, Asher prepared himself to finish the Arakesh, ending the ancient order once and for all. But it wasn’t the first time he had heard words like those. Words that had stuck with him since the last assassin of Nightfall had been at his mercy. Like Veda did now, that Arakesh had looked up at him and seen themselves reflected back. But what else could be done? The Arakesh were a scourge, a plague that had brought its rot to every corner of Illian for a thousand years. They needed eradicating. If Veda was allowed to escape or if he found some way to survive, the order would continue.
Pressing the silvyr tip to Veda’s chest, Asher offered the man a final grimace to take to hell with him. “I can live with that,” he replied.
As his arm tensed, ready to drive his blade down, an unusual and overwhelming feeling swept over the ranger. In that same moment, he was taken back to the first time Avandriell had swelled with magic and grown in size. Like then, Asher felt the cautionary arm of Adan’Karth hold him back.
Looking beyond Veda, Avandriell’s golden eyes were waiting for her companion. Though she gave no outward suggestion of what was to come, Asher could feel it in her. Around the dragon, small pieces of debris and dirt began to lift from the ground and float in the air. Ignoring Veda altogether, the ranger turned on his heel and dived in the opposite direction.
The gloom and even the firelight from the bodies were eclipsed by the bright star that was birthed inside the stables. It expanded for six feet in every direction, propelled by the rawest magic there was. Everything inside that sphere was disintegrated, including all but a single foot of Veda Malmagol.
Succumbing to his injuries now, Asher slowly rolled onto his back and searched through the smoke for any sign of his companion. The intense burst of magic had spread to one of the supporting posts, removing a chunk of the wood while setting the rest of it alight. The fire and smoke made it hard to see anything, though Asher wasn’t sure his head injury didn’t have something to do with his poor vision.
A silhouette began to take shape near the doors, beyond the scorch mark that Veda’s body had left on the ground. The silhouette rose and continued to rise and expand, taking on a hulking shape.
“Avandriell?” he uttered.
The smoke curled as that silhouette pushed through to reach him. A single head, a little larger than a horse’s, emerged to rest over the ranger. Avandriell’s reptilian eyes blinked once as she looked down on her wounded companion. They were the same shade of gold, if a few sizes bigger. The two horns, one above each eye, were thicker and much taller now.
Asher desperately wanted to see all of her, to marvel at the way she had grown, to admire her increased beauty. But the world was fading away and the smoke was making it harder to breathe.
Asher… Avandriell’s voice was a soothing balm that gave him just enough life to keep his eyes open a moment longer.
In that time, the wall behind Avandriell was ripped away in a violent explosion of splintered wood. There, with the stars and moon at his back, Athis the ironheart stood tall on his back legs, his mighty fangs bared in a snarl.
Asher, Avandriell said again, her golden eyes drawing the ranger in. Hold on… Her voice was the last thing he heard before the black took him.
“I think he’s waking up,” came a voice from the ether.
It was familiar, but the ranger struggled to place it.
“Quickly,” the same voice said, “alert my mother.”
“Inara,” Asher croaked, his throat horribly dry.
“I’m here,” the Guardian replied.
The ranger’s eyes fluttered open and protested against the light streaming in through a large window to his left. Inara’s elfish face slowly grew in detail until all the blurry lines were gone, leaving naught but her smile.
“You’re in Governor Tarlan’s guest house,” she
