Fire Emblem Fan Fiction ❯ Fire Emblem Tellius Saga: Book 3 ❯ CHAPTER 92: KING OF DRAGONS ( Chapter 26 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

They continued to climb the seemingly endless stairs, stopping to rest briefly and rarely. No one knew how long they’d been here, and they ventured guesses ranging from five hours to five days. Soren tried to make an estimate based on the food and water they’d already consumed, but this varied from person to person, and some people were amazed to find that they still possessed food they thought they’d already eaten. Sometimes, they wondered aloud about their friends and comrades fighting outside the tower, but there was no way to know how they fared.

They walked a long time without encountering any more Disciples of Order, and eventually Yune came back to check on them. “How dull,” she sighed, “I don’t sense any enemies nearby. I know! Would you all like me to tell you a story as we climb?”

“What kind of story?” Ike asked. (He walked steadily now, having mostly recovered from his battle with Zelgius.)

“One from long ago,” Yune answered, “long before the grandparents of anyone here were born... In the very beginning of this world, there was only water, until one day a girl appeared. The girl was very clever, and she forged the first land. Then she made trees and flowers, and even animals.”

“The girl was you, right, Yune?” Ike guessed, “Or are you talking about Ashera?”

“Both, really…and neither, actually,” Yune explained, “At first, the girl was excited about her new world, and she thought of little else. Then she started feeling lonely. Everyone—every being she created—was different from her. Not a single one could truly understand her. All alone, she grew sadder and sadder, crying for thousands of years. Then some creatures began to grow and change, becoming cleverer and more sophisticated. They tried to comfort the girl and eventually grew closer to her… That was the birth of the Zunanma. They were your ancestors…beorc, laguz, everyone.”

This was the first time Soren had heard for certain that the name Zunanma belonged to a people rather than a place, although he’d suspected it since the Kauku Caves. He listened to Yune’s story with interest.

“In Begnion,” Sanaki countered curiously, “I was taught that the Zunanma were humans- um, I mean, beorc. It makes me wonder what else in my country has been warped beyond recognition.”

“It’s possible that the truth was simply misunderstood,” Yune replied diplomatically, “like the way everyone calls me a dark god. But let me keep going… The Zunanma worshipped the girl as their own goddess, even though she didn’t create them directly. They said her hair was as striking a color as dawn’s first light, so they gave her a name: the Goddess of Dawn, Ashunera. She was a much-loved goddess.”

“The Goddess of Dawn…” Ike repeated thoughtfully.

“The Zunanma continued to evolve and change, giving rise to a variety of races and tribes across the land. Naturally, each one thought their own was superior to the others, and conflict arose between them. The goddess tried to make peace among the people, but nothing could stop the warring Zunanma. Trying to separate the factions, the goddess gave them different names: laguz and beorc… But this only intensified their conflict. And then…the great flood occurred. The goddess was only trying to bring an end to the fighting. But her power was so great that all the continents were drowned in the flood, all except Tellius.”

“Are you sure about this story?” Ike asked suspiciously. “It’s very different from the histories that we’ve each been taught.” Soren also suspected Yune may be twisting events to cast herself in a more favorable light.

“Among beorc nations,” Elincia added, “we only know a vague fairytale about the dark god stirring up a great disaster.” She glanced at Yune apologetically, but there was a bit of reservation in her face, as if she wasn’t entirely convinced Yune was absolved of her part in the drowning of the world.

“Neither the laguz nor the beorc have an accurate depiction by the sound of it,” Kurthnaga proposed, and Soren wondered what his father might have told him growing up. “I wonder where the story got twisted.”

Yune suddenly stopped, and that caused everyone else to stop too. “There is another standing in our way…” She turned her face up to where the stairs turned into a series of staggered, curling platforms. Soren squinted at the disembodied stairs and hallways, some of which doubled back while others led nowhere, ending suddenly. It was hard to gauge their size from here, and he could only see the undersides coming in and out of view in the swirling mist. “…I have a feeling he might be able to tell us,” Yune proposed softly.

Suddenly Kurthnaga’s face grew sallow, and he seized the sides of his head, falling to his knees. “Fa-Father?” he hissed. Ena winced, closing her eyes and twisting her neck as if fighting off some sensation the others couldn’t feel. Perhaps it was merely sympathetic, but Soren imagined he felt a prickling on his skin and the hairs standing on the back of his neck.

“Huh?” Ike stepped toward Kurthnaga. “You okay?”

Taking a few deep breaths, the prince got back to his feet. “My father… Just ahead, my father is waiting. He knows we’re here.” Ena also seemed to shake off the telesthesic assault, but her shoulders were still bunched and she hugged her belly protectively. 

“Dheginsea, King of Goldoa,” Ike thought aloud, turning his gaze to the maze of platforms in the distance. “He’s supposed to be one of the three who defeated the dark god… Yune.” He turned to her, and there was an obvious question in his voice.

Yune, however, ignored the question. “He has been blessed by Ashera,” she said instead. “Not only that, but it’s a powerful, resilient blessing from long ago. He may be nearly impossible to defeat… Let’s get everyone together.” She gestured with her hands that everyone should line up. “There’s no better time than now.”

“Everyone, gather ‘round!” Ike repeated the order, and they all rearranged themselves and drew closer. “So…what are we doing?” he turned to Yune.

“I was hoping to avoid this until we reached Ashera… Actually, I hoped not to have to do it at all—” she shrugged “—but she left me no choice. I will give you the blessings of Yune, the goddess of chaos and freedom. In their natural state, the attacks of mortal creatures have no effect on divine beings. When Ashera set out to defeat me, she gathered her strongest warriors and bestowed on them some of her power: the Goddess’s Blessing.”

“Like what you did to me and Micaiah?” Ike asked.

“Similar, yes, but this should be much stronger, and I will bless your weapons and armor so your bodies need not feel the burden,” Yune answered.

“What about us laguz?” Tibarn asked.

“I will bind the blessing to your transformation magic,” Yune answered in a voice that indicated that that should have been obvious. “You’ll be stronger and more resilient in your animal shapes.”

“That sound very useful!” Skrimir approved.

“A long time ago,” Yune continued in a sad voice. “Ashera empowered the dual swords of the beorc swordswoman Altina. The laguz warrior Soan, the heron curate Lehran, and the prince of the dragon tribe Dheginsea were also blessed. I failed them… But this time will be different! I’ll use Ashera’s own tricks, and I won’t be defeated. Everyone, take some time now to ready yourselves. Beorc, be sure to equip your best weapons. I’ll begin when everyone’s ready.”

At her words, everyone began fumbling with their supplies. Shinon and Rolf were each filling a quiver with their best arrows, and Boyd seemed torn between his two favorite axes. Ike and Mist were asking Yune if Ragnell and Alondite could receive a second blessing, and Sanaki seemed to be waiting to ask a question: “What of us mages?” she asked once Ike and Mist’s concerns were addressed. Soren stepped closer, because he was wondering the same thing.

“You need only pick one spell,” Yune explained. “I’ve asked Micaiah, and she wants me to bless one of the Rexaura spells she took from that bully Lekain.”

Sanaki nodded hesitantly. “Then I shall choose Rexflame. Am I correct in assuming the spell will never fade or lose its power?”

“That’s right!”

“Incredible…” Sanaki cascaded the pages of her spell book past her thumb. Half the sheets were full of gray, blurry letters, already spent.

Soren withdrew his own tome, which was extremely worn and full of mismatched pages. The spine had been sewn and resewn, glued and re-glued many times. Some of the pages were made of animal parchment, others fibrous paper. Some spells were written in large, looping script, others tiny cursive letters, and still others in print runes that read vertically. Some pages were stained with rainwater, others with blood, and still others with mud and dirt. The book had weathered many battles in Soren’s hands. Some of the pages were actually scrolls of varying sizes and lengths, which had been folded and tucked into the binding. But he didn’t mind; this was just the tome of a mercenary. Flipping to one of his remaining pages of Rexcalibur spells, he decided he would present one of these to Yune.

“We mages do not wear armor,” Sanaki pointed out next, regaining Soren’s attention.

“I’ve noticed that.” Yune tapped her chin, looking at Sanaki, Soren, and then down at Micaiah’s body. “You fight in naught but your shirtsleeves! A strange decision for such puncturable organ-bags. But no worries—I can bless your robes and cloaks! It won’t stop a direct attack, but it should help against some dragon breath!” She then seemed to rethink her claim. “Well…a bit. Maybe. Don’t try to get burned. Um, we’ll see how this goes.”

“You fill me with such confidence,” Sanaki said with a disappointed sigh.

Before long, everyone was lined up in rows in front of Yune with the shortest (including Soren and Sanaki) in the front and Ena and Kurthnaga in the back (since they were about to be the tallest).

“I’ll need the laguz to transform,” Yune announced, and they did. “Let’s begin! Hold up your weapons. Concentrate on them.”

Soren obeyed, touching the page of spells for good measure, but he also watched what Yune was doing. Holding Micaiah’s light tome in one hand, she cast the other to the side. Her eyes were clamped shut in concentration. Once again, ghostly blue flames rose from her, but these were brighter and far more numerous than the times she’d blessed Ike and Micaiah. They swirled around and around, growing stronger, until they funneled up into the air and spread out over all the royals and mercenaries awaiting her blessing. From here, they branched out, connecting with each of them and settling upon their clothes and weapons.

Soren felt an eerie tingling that reached up his back, over his shoulders, up the sides of his head, and past his ears, upon which he shivered. Then it passed, and Soren discovered any tears or patches in his clothing had disappeared. The Rexcalibur spell at the top of the page before him had also changed—the black ink was now outlined in a fine, silver light.

Looking up, Soren saw Yune stagger backward, the blue flames gone. “Okay, I’m all done now. Whew… I… That was really hard… I think I… I think I need to rest.” She slowly but gracefully lowered herself to the floor, as if going limp one limb at a time. By the time her torso fell, however, Sothe was there to catch her.

“Micaiah?” he asked frantically. She blinked blearily. “Are you feeling alright? You don’t look so good.” The bird on her shoulder twittered weakly and glided to the ground where it lay with its wings outstretched, unmoving.

“I’m fine,” Micaiah managed to say, sitting up. “Thank you, Sothe.” Leaning away from him a moment, she picked up the little bird and tucked it into a compartment on her belt.

“What happened to Yune?” Ike asked, stepping forward and extending his arm.

“She’s sleeping,” Micaiah answered, and she accepted his hand, letting him pull her from Sothe’s lap. “She wants us to take it from here.” Sothe stood too, but he still seemed worried about Micaiah—touching her face and trying to look into her eyes. She gave him a reassuring hug, but she did seem weaker. Not for the first time, Soren wondered what the cost of hosting Yune’s power might be. He found himself glad she’d merely blessed their weapons and spells instead of trying to put a piece of herself in each of them. Soren was fairly sure he didn’t want that.

“Alright!” Ike called, getting everyone’s attention. “If we’re all set, let’s move out!” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the maze of wall-less hallways looming in the mist.

  

When they reached the wide central platform, Soren could finally see the legion of Goldoans awaiting them. Half were already in their dragon forms; others were standing reproachfully with their arms crossed. Of those already transformed, two thirds were red and a third white. Soren wondered if one of the white ones might be Nasir, but then he saw the familiar man standing far at the other end of the platform, just behind and to the right of his king.

Even at this distance, the aura coming off Dheginsea was palpable, and Soren struggled to free his mind. Once this was done, he felt he could take a better count of the Goldoans’ numbers. Casting his eyes over the precipitous, winding platforms, he estimated six hundred or more—the Argos city guard, just as Yune had warned. Then of course, there was the king himself.

“Father!” Kurthnaga cried, striding forward with Ike beside him.

In response, Dheginsea started walking toward them at a reserved pace, descending from the elevated platform where he’d been standing. His subjects made way, and no one seemed to breathe.

Ike and Kurthnaga stopped before they’d gone too far, and when the king was within a distance that his voice could easily be heard, he also stopped. “Kurthnaga. I wasn’t expecting this… Is it safe to assume you’ve come prepared to fight?”

“I have,” the prince growled.

“We have betrayed our vow to the Goddess,” Dheginsea continued, “We should have learned, but the fighting never stopped. Now we must pay for our crimes. We must take responsibility and accept Ashera’s judgement.”

“No!” Micaiah’s voice called out (and a quick glance confirmed she was indeed Micaiah, not Yune). She walked forward until she was standing between Ike and Kurthnaga. “You don’t understand! It wasn’t the war that awoke her! It was my song. The galdr of release freed the Goddess!”

Dheginsea didn’t reply as he assessed Micaiah with a guarded expression. “You can’t expect me to believe that,” he finally said, “We will wait here patiently for the punishment we deserve. If you are unwilling to await judgment…you will stand against the greatest of all dragons!” To prove his words, the king transformed in an intense burst of light.

In his dragon form, he easily stood another ten feet taller than Kurthnaga, and his body was more serpentine. His wings were expansive, and his tail was a river of scales. Its muscles slithered with the incremental movements of a snake, and at the end were spikes nearly as long as Soren was tall. The horns on Dheginsea’s head and shoulders were longer than Kurthnaga’s, and the claws on his hindlegs, forepaws, and even the two talons atop the fold of his wings were larger and deadlier-looking.

“Father, no!” Kurthnaga cried, and his voice cracked. “Why must we fight? There must be a way to talk through this.”

“It’s no use, Kurth,” Ike sighed, apparently unintimidated by the massive dragon. “We have no choice but to fight.”

Flapping his wings, Dheginsea dug gouges into the floor and leapt into the air, where he swiveled back, flying to retake his position on the raised platform beyond his soldiers. Apparently he was going to leave the fighting to his underlings for now, and Soren couldn’t complain, because they all suddenly seemed much more manageable than their king.

Ike turned around. “We must reach the goddess,” he announced, “and not even the King of Dragons can stand in our way!”

Skrimir transformed and roared. Tibarn shrieked, Ranulf yowled, and the rest of the mercenaries screamed and shouted at the top of their lungs. Kurthnaga and Ena transformed, and Soren found himself thinking that, although he was slightly smaller, Kurthnaga was probably their best chance against Dheginsea.

Falling back, Soren began incanting Bolting spells, but they seemed to have little to no effect on the dragons he targeted (other than enraging them). When he didn’t have a single one left, he moved forward and wondered if he was wasting his time hoping for an elemental advantage.

Ranulf was currently confronting a red dragon by biting the back of its leg and holding on, probably trying to rip out a crucial tendon and topple it.

“Let go, Ranulf!” Soren called out, not wanting to electrocute the cat. He obeyed, and when the dragon rounded on him, Soren released the Thoron spell he’d prepared.

The twin bolts struck the dragon, but it just roared ferociously, moving its forelegs and wings with jittery jerks. When the spell ended and the orb of electricity collapsed on its head, it swayed as if dazed. Ranulf lunged forward, scrambling up the dragon’s back before it could react. He plunged his fangs into its neck, tearing left and right while scales and blood fell. But the dragon managed to fling Ranulf to the ground—where he yelped pitifully but managed to pull himself back up.

Soren wondered what to do next. Thoron was his most powerful thunder spell, and he’d truly hoped it would have more of an effect. While he hesitated, the dragon opened its mouth and shot fire at them both. Soren only survived because Ranulf tackled him to safety. They slid away on the stone floor, and although the fall bruised him, Soren didn’t have time to see if anything was sprained or broken. A white dragon was backpedaling to avoid Ena’s breath, and it was about to step right on him. Ranulf darted away in an instant, and Soren scrambled to his feet, turning his gaze back to the red dragon.

He was about to try Rexcalibur when he was saved from having to make a decision. Rolf shot an arrow directly into the bloody skin at the base of the dragon’s jaw, which Ranulf had just exposed. He only accomplished this by getting dangerously close to the dragon and shooting straight upward. But the gamble was a success, and the arrow embedded itself so deep that the fletching was barely visible. It must have skewered the dragon’s brain, because a moment later, it collapsed and reverted its form. Looking at the human body now, Soren saw that she was a woman and that she looked young. Then again, that was just how Goldoans were. Logically speaking, she had to have been over a hundred years old, perhaps two-hundred. He wondered how she could have lived all of that time only to die here.

“Hey, numbskull! Get your head on straight!” scolded Boyd, and a moment later he was seizing Soren’s collar and throwing him out of the way of another red dragon’s foot. As soon as he regained his stance, Boyd lunged forward, heaving his axe into the dragon’s thigh. When it swept its forepaw at him, he jumped and latched onto it while wrenching out the axe with his other hand. From here, he hit the dragon in the stomach. In retaliation, it threw him across the floor.

Soren felt useless, but he knew he was only useless because he wasn’t doing anything. Hearing the sounds Boyd’s body made as he rolled across the tiles was enough to jog him into action. He started chanting the words to Rexcalibur, telling himself it was high time he stopped being afraid of dragons.

There was no reason for it. He, Ike, and the other mages had defeated Ena in Nevassa. Ike, Ena, and Naesala had defeated Rajaion in Melior. And Soren had helped defeat several feral dragons both in Melior and at Gritnea Tower. He had seen Ena and even Kurthnaga injured by the Disciples. Goldoans were mortal, just like any laguz.

And they were slow.

Soren dodged the red dragon’s fiery breath, taking Boyd’s opponent for his own. The dragon fired again, but he rolled out of the way. He’d completed a Rexcalibur spell but held it in reserve, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Now that he was closer, the dragon switched from using its breath to using its forelegs and jaws, but its movements were impeded by Boyd’s axe. Soren slipped toward its weaker side, assessing the damage, planning the routes by which he would need the winds to move to do the most damage.

When he was ready, he released the spell, and the prism of wind encased the dragon, freezing it in place and slowing its movements even more. “What?” he growled through scaly lips—a man’s voice. But in the next moment, the winds exploded. Boyd’s axe went flying and embedded itself it the floor nearby. Soren funneled power into the gyrating blades as they spun around the dragon, catching the wounds Boyd had made, tearing them longer, stretching them up and around the dragon’s entire body. He was freezing as he went, intensifying the cold winds. The spell broke flesh and bone with a sound like shattering ice.

When he finally released the spell, he was dizzy with exhaustion, but the dragon fell dead. The Goldoan man was hardly recognizable now. Looking at his mangled body, Soren realized holding the spell that long had been overkill. He hadn’t accounted for the power Yune’s blessing lent to the already powerful spell.

Boyd limped over and took up his axe. He didn’t comment on the bloody mess, instead nodding and jogging off to find his next opponent. The dragons were everywhere, so it wasn’t difficult to find a companion having a hard time and helping them overcome their adversary. Soren did the same thing.

  

Telling himself he just had to defeat thirty dragons to carry his weight in this battle, Soren began counting them down. He conjured two Tornado spells to act as guards around him, blocking the dragons’ red and blue flames when he couldn’t dodge or escape them. When he felt these flagging, he funneled more power to them. But otherwise, every ounce of his concentration was required for his Rexcalibur spells.

After Thoron had failed him, Soren didn’t bother with thunder magic again, and he certainly didn’t waste his time on fire magic. Relying solely on wind, he experimented with Rexcalibur in ways he hadn’t been able to before. He needn’t fear running out of this particular spell, thanks to Yune’s blessing, so his only limit was his magic ability. As the most powerful wind spell in existence, Rexcalibur required a lot of energy every time he cast it. But Soren found he was able to offer this power as long as he paced himself.

As a child, he’d learned to use a simple wind spell to smash a lock; to this day, he could unleash the tiny spell with more speed, precision, and force than it was designed. Now, he needed to learn how to manipulate Rexcalibur in the same way—no wasted energy, no blades of wind branching off, no residual force knocking down anything in the spell’s periphery. Although this could be helpful when fighting clustered beorc soldiers, it was a waste now. Soren had to concentrate on one dragon at a time, killing it before moving onto the next. Each spell needed to be carefully controlled and given just enough power to make it effective.

After leaving some dragons with mere scratches and others in bloody heaps, Soren gradually found his middle-ground. He attacked at a rate he could maintain, and he focused on the wounds the dragons had already received, pushing them deeper and pulling them wider. He learned how to increase Rexcalibur’s freezing effect, finding that the dragons’ scales became looser and more brittle if frozen. This, in turn, opened more vulnerable patches for either his wind blades or another mercenary’s weapon to puncture.

Meanwhile, the others were targeting the dragons’ known weak points: their eyes, noses, armpits, and leg joints. The inside of the mouth was also a vulnerable area, but Soren tried not to get that close. Not only were the teeth deadly, but the fire that erupted from the dragons’ throats couldn’t be avoided at that range.

Sometimes, the dragons’ breath couldn’t be avoided anyway—especially if two or more attacked in tandem, spraying their jets of fire on parallel or intersecting paths. When this happened, Soren relied on his shields of wind magic—and on one occasion, nothing but his white cloak. Fortunately, Yune’s enchantment seemed to have made it fireproof after all. Soren was knocked to the ground by the force, and his fingers and the back of his leg that escaped the cloak’s protection were viciously burned. But he was alive, and as soon as he rolled away, he flung his cloak aside and released the Rexcalibur spell he’d prepared. One of the two dragons who’d pinned him died, and Soren rolled again to avoid the other.

  

The mercenaries were making headway, slowly but surely, when Dheginsea seemed to take issue with their progress and remind them he was here. “Feel the power of Ashera’s faithful!” the massive dragon bellowed, and then he chanted in the ancient language: “*Spread, my breath, to the highest reaches of the tide. Flood my enemies in darkness.*”

Soren had never heard of laguz using vocal magic (other than heron galdr of course), and he didn’t know what to expect. But it didn’t take long to see the curse’s effect: black fire poured from the Dheginsea’s mouth, dancing around his forelegs and then spreading outward in a torrent. In the fire crackled veins of violet light.

“Watch out!” Ike called, but there was nothing anyone could do. It hit them with such force that every mercenary hit the ground. Only Elincia, Tibarn, and Reyson were spared by flying out of range. When it reached him, Soren’s breath was knocked out of his chest, and his entire body seized with pain. He felt like he was burning from the inside out.

But then it passed, and Soren found he wasn’t dead. He struggled to his feet, and then struggled to dodge a white dragon’s tail. He struggled to leap back without falling. He struggled to keep his balance. He struggled to regulate his breathing and regain his voice enough to incant. But after the dragon’s curse, everything had become so much harder.

Looking around, Soren saw that that the others were having an equally difficult time getting back on their feet. The force of the attack had shocked the laguz out of their transformations, and Kurthnaga was the first to reclaim his dragon form. He seemed no worse for wear but was obviously enraged. Ena, meanwhile, retreated further and claimed she needed to rest a moment. As for Skrimir and Ranulf, they each spent a minute desperately dodging while they attempted to recover. Eventually they transformed back, and once they did, they raced to support Kurthnaga, who was on a rampage, mauling the red and white dragons before him. He was bigger than them, and he used this to his advantage. Whenever he knocked one to the ground, Skrimir, Ranulf, or one of the mercenaries rushed forward to finish the job.

Soren was suddenly aware of Reyson singing passionately nearby, and he realized the heron was throwing himself into his galdr verses more than ever to restore everyone’s lost strength. Ike and Tibarn were fighting near Reyson, so Soren made his way closer.

This group, in turn, proceeded closer to Kurthnaga, who was functioning as their offensive vanguard. When they arrived, Ike called up to the prince, asking what Dheginsea had done, but the Kurthnaga said only that it was old magic, a lost technique that the king had never taught his children. “Dragon magic once ran deeper than even heron galdr,” he murmured down to him while catching his breath. “I am sorry I can be of no more use.”

“You’re plenty useful!” Ike called up in return. “We’re nearly to your father, and I hate to ask it, but either you’re going to have to reason with him or get him in a headlock!”

“I…I will try,” Kurthnaga promised, leaving Ike’s side to grapple with a white dragon heading their way.

Ike started giving orders to the others: “Mist, Oscar, Elincia! When we get to the king’s dais, you three distract his fire. Once we’re all in place, you’ll be on rescue duty. Boyd, Mia! You’re on this right hindleg. Gatrie and Sothe, his left! Skrimir, Ranulf—his tail! Rhys, Micaiah, take out his eyes. Rolf and Shinon, his nose! Fill it with blood so he can’t smell us. Soren, Tibarn—his wings! I don’t want him flying away. Sanaki, burn us a weak spot, right here—” Ike thumped his own heart “—Reyson, keep us strong. And Ena, you stay back for now. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

Everyone called out to confirm that they understood their orders. Soren just hoped it would go according to Ike’s plan. A minute later, it certainly seemed like it wouldn’t. Perhaps concerned that they were getting closer, Dheginsea roared again, saying: “You have followed Yune’s path and put us at irrevocable odds. I loathe that it has to be this way.” Once again, he chanted the ancient words, and once again, black flames fell from his mouth.

“Brace yourself!” Ike warned, and Soren tried. But the sapping flames felt even worse this time, and he gasped to regain his breathing. He tried to get up but was too dizzy and fell. All around him, mercenaries were stumbling, and Soren found his ears were filled with high-pitched ringing.

Meanwhile the red and white dragons around them were unaffected. Tibarn and Elincia were doing their best to fend them off, and Reyson was rescuing the mercenaries who couldn’t save themselves by either picking them up or shoving them out of the way. Of the ground troops, it seems only Kurthnaga had maintained his composure. He continued to fight and blast the enemy dragons with his own beams of blue breath. Soren thought dimly that he must have learned something last time and found a way to counteract Dheginsea’s magic. He was grateful for that now, because Kurthnaga was currently in front of him, keeping three white dragons at bay while Soren still struggled to stay on his feet.

“Get up,” the Dragon Prince rumbled. “Get up, all of you. He cannot defeat you. You are stronger than this.” Then his voice disappeared, and Soren heard only the whistle and roar of him priming and releasing his catastrophic breath.

At Kurthnaga’s words, Soren wondered if Dheginsea’s curse magic could be related to the daunting effect he had on people or the telesthesic connection between laguz. If so, the black flames were more of a mental attack than a magical or physical one. And if that were the case, Soren needed only resist it and clear his mind to regain control of himself.

As soon as he commitment himself to this endevour, his dizziness began to fade and the battlefield settled around him. Most of the other mercenaries were still fighting weakly or lopsidedly, but Soren trusted they too would overcome the telepathic attack soon. For now, he needed to use his newfound consciousness to do the most damage. Chanting the words to Rexcalibur, Soren determined to take out one of the dragons Kurthnaga was fighting.

“You’ve recovered,” the prince observed, turning his gaze down for a moment.

Soren didn’t offer a reply, instead jumping right into his next spell. It was a better use of his voice, and before long, the second of the white dragons was dead as well. Kurthnaga ripped the third’s jaw off and then wasted no time moving onto a red dragon stomping toward Gatrie.

Ike and Micaiah were the next to reclaim themselves and continue fighting with all their strength (or what remained of it, anyway). Gradually everyone else recovered, and with one final surge, they eliminated most of the remaining Goldoans.

Nasir and his red-haired counterpart advanced to protect their king. Panting hard and dizzy with exhaustion, Soren resented Nasir’s composure more than ever. But recalling his threat to kill him himself, Soren jogged forward to engage him before anyone else could.

However, it appeared Ike had the same idea. “Nasir!” he called, and the pain in his voice was crushing. “Why come here? Why face us?” He sprinted past Soren, coming to halt in front of the man. He gripped his sword hilt in both hands, but he was trembling. Soren didn’t know if it was due to exhaustion or fury. He caught up and stood by his side.

“Naturally, I never thought it would come to this,” Nasir replied calmly, still in his human form. “You must have defeated the Black Knight, among other foes, to reach this place. Congratulations, Ike. I know how long you’d wish-”

“That doesn’t matter now!” he growled back. “And it has nothing to do with this. I don’t want to fight you, Nasir.”

“If you do not wish to fight me, then attack neither me nor my king.”

This answer was so annoying Soren began chanting Rexcalibur spells under his breath. The air around him started to churn.

“Grandfather!” Ena begged, striding forward in her dragon form. Bloodstains from her victims spilled over her teeth, down her scaly neck. “Don’t do this.”

Nasir shook his head. “Leave this place, Ena. Pass from this world with grace…not like this.”

“I won’t!” she refused. “I won’t give up like you have.”

At this, Nasir made no reply. Ike gripped his sword tighter and adjusted his stance. “Stay back, Ena. There’s no reason for you to do anything you’ll regret. I’ll handle this.”

She hesitated, but then retreated. Soren took another step so he stood slightly in front of Ike. “You don’t have to do it either,” he whispered, not taking his eyes off Nasir.

“It’s okay, I can-”

Without letting him finish, Soren released the first Rexcalibur he’d prepared. But Nasir’s reflexes were fast, and he transformed in an instant. At the same time, he leapt back, and the spell missed completely. Soren released another, but this time Nasir reverted his form, shrinking down so that the winds exploded safely over his head. Now he was running at them. Soren released the third spell, but Nasir merely slid across the floor to avoid it. In the same swift movement, he drew a knife from his belt and threw it at Ike.

Ike easily deflected the projectile, and Soren realized too late than it’d been a distraction. Nasir had drawn his attention away, relying on his concern for Ike’s wellbeing. By the time he turned back, Nasir was right in front of him.

His hand shot out, grabbing Soren’s throat. He tried to fight back, but before he could get so much as a kick in, Nasir transformed again. Soren’s feet left the ground, and now his entire torso was held tight in Nasir’s scaly fist. From here, Soren could easily see Nasir’s blue, reptilian eyes—as taunting as ever.

“Hey!” Ike shouted indignantly, racing forward with his sword raised.

Soren released the final Rexcalibur spell before Nasir could crush him. He concentrated on the dragon’s arm, and when the winds exploded, the limb snapped. The surprise in Nasir’s eyes was so satisfying, it was almost worth the drop. While Nasir scrambled back, with his forearm hanging from his elbow by a shred of flesh, Soren fell through the air. He didn’t think this height would kill him if he landed correctly, but it was certainly going to hurt.

“Gotcha!” Ike called below. Before Soren could be surprised, he landed on top of him and they were both hitting the ground. His chin collided with Ike’s steel pauldron, and his teeth rattled into his brain. Hissing from the impact, Soren wondered if falling on the stone floor might have been less painful.

“Oww,” Ike groaned, picking himself up.

Soren was about to call him a fool, but then he noticed Nasir’s throat was glowing. He and Ike barely threw themselves out of the way in time. Soren began chanting another spell while he got to his feet, and Ike was already charging forward, having popped out of a well-executed roll. “Let’s work together!” he called over his shoulder.

In answer, Soren unleashed a Rexcalibur spell, trying to hit Nasir from whatever angle was opposite Ike’s next strike. The pair slowly wore him down—Soren with the freezing, slicing winds, and Ike with his long blade and versatile footwork. White scales fell in showers, and Nasir’s dangling arm was blown off (reverting to a normal, human arm when it landed). Soren opened up several weak points Ike could take advantage of, but he never attempted a killing blow.

 “Give up!” he demanded, obviously frustrated. Soren realized he couldn’t do it; he still considered Nasir a friend, despite everything.

Nasir didn’t reply. Although he was losing a lot of blood from his elbow stump, he still moved quickly and was releasing blasts of electric blue fire more frequently. 

Summoning his resolve (and his power), Soren determined to make good on his promise. “*Glaciate, spirits of wind, and lacerate. Ravage all you encompass*,” he chanted, “… And drop dead you snake.”

He directed the spell at Nasir’s neck, but the dragon reverted his form to avoid it. At the same time, he nimbly ducked away from Ike’s close-range attack. Soren fueled the spell, keeping the blades of wind gyrating so Nasir couldn’t transform again without lopping his head off. Meanwhile, Ike kept him busy avoiding Ragnell’s deadly touch.

Dashing toward them, Soren summoned a simple Wind spell, scooped up Nasir’s fallen knife, and withdrew the one from his belt.  He tossed both in the air and released the spell. The blades sailed around Ike, one over his shoulder and one lower, hidden—nearly skimming his ribs. His cape fluttered wildly in the gust, but when it fell, Ike was standing frozen. Nasir had dodged the higher projectile, earning nothing but a sliced ear, but the other blade was embedded to its hilt in his stomach.

Ike stared in shock. When Nasir stumbled backward, he reached out a hand. “No…”

Soren hadn’t stopped running, and he reached them just as Nasir fell against the raised platform where Dheginsea was brooding. Knowing that the Dragon King could easily strike them from here, Soren understood the risk of getting any closer. But he did anyway.

Removing his belt, he fell to his knees and looped it around Nasir’s mangled stump. He reached for the knife in his gut, but Soren growled: “Don’t touch you dare touch it. You’ll just bleed out faster.”

Nasir stared at him, and even as he eyes glassed over, he looked incredibly surprised.

Ike dropped next to them. “Hang on, Nasir. We haven’t given up on you yet!” Removing one of his own belts, he made another tourniquet above a particularly deep would on his right leg.

While his hands worked, becoming coated in Nasir’s blood, Soren’s mind raced to catch up with his own actions. He had intended to kill Nasir, hadn’t he? He wondered why he’d used the knife instead of a wind blade. The latter would have been more fatal. He remembered aiming for his heart, and wondered how he could have missed. Looking down, he wondered why he was trying to save Nasir’s life now.

But Ike had said ‘we’, and Nasir’s bewilderment had finally washed the smug look from his face. These things felt right, and Soren decided he’d never wanted to kill Nasir after all.

“Grandfather!” came Ena’s cry. Now in her human form, she fell to her knees beside Ike, where she gripped Nasir’s hand.

“I have lived long enough,” he mumbled, “Ena, I wish you…the best…”

“Don’t die!” she commanded. “Look, Ike is trying to save you. He still believes in you, as do I.”

Nasir stared at her, and Soren feared he was dead for a moment before he sucked in a breath and finally blinked. “…Very well.”

Ike unclipped his cape and draped it over him. “Stay warm. Don’t move. Keep breathing. I’ll get Mist.” He looked up, but Mist was already engaging Dheginsea, as was the plan. Oscar and Elincia were with her.

Soren surveyed the battlefield; the rest of the dragons were dead, including Nasir’s counterpart whom Tibarn and Skrimir had been fighting.

“Ena, stay with him,” Ike said, “We’ll heal him when this is over.”

She nodded and wiped her eyes.

“Let’s go!” Ike called, gesturing for Soren to follow. “Strike the king now!” he bellowed loud enough for everyone to hear. They raced up the steps, finally reaching Dheginsea, who was swatting away the cavalry as if they were mere pests.

The claws on his forepaw slid through Mist’s horse, killing it and sending her flying. His tail collided with Oscar, crushing his steed. His jaws snatched Elincia’s pegasus by the wing, flinging them both to the ground. Soren could hardly believe how fast he moved for a creature so large.

However, Mist, Oscar, and Elincia’s sacrifice had given the others enough time to get into position, and now Kurthnaga was standing in front of the king. “Father!” he yelled, “Please think about what you’re doing.”

“The time for words has passed,” Dheginsea replied, pulling himself to his full height. “The only option remaining is to stop you with brute force.”

“Why?” Kurthnaga shook his head. “Father, why?”

“That is enough! No more sniveling! You, Kurthnaga, were to rule the Dragon Tribe in the years to come. Show me that you would have been capable!”

“But-” He froze, and a shiver ran through his entire reptilian body. “Yes sir… I will show you.” With that, he raised his forepaws, stretched his wings, lashed his tail, and lunged.

The king met him halfway, and they pressed on each other’s shoulders, each trying to force the other down. Meanwhile, Ike and the others raced to accomplish their assigned tasks. Soren started chanting Rexcalibur spells again, targeting Dheginsea’s wings while also trying to avoid hitting Tibarn, who was doing the same.

Kurthnaga gave Dheginsea a bit of false leverage, and in the king’s lurch, he sidestepped and seized his neck between his arm and body. Here Kurthnaga remained, quivering with the strain. Meanwhile, beside him, Sanaki conjured a drill of churning flames, the tip of which dripped with molten lava. She repeatedly targeted the same spot on the king’s chest. But the scales were thick and resilient to magic.

Soren wished there was something he could do, but he was busy enough trying to shred the dragon’s massive wings—while also avoiding his tail every time it got away from Skrimir and Ranulf and his jet of blue breath every time his head got away from Kurthnaga.

But this couldn’t go on forever, and Ike was slowly climbing up the king’s spiny back. He’d been thrown off twice now, but this time he was making quicker progress. Finally he reached Dheginsea’s shoulder. Here, he wrapped his legs around one of the horn-like protrusions, swung himself upside-down over the front, and drove his full weight into his sword, stabbing it in the scorched place where Sanaki’s spells had weakened the scales. Dheginsea roared so loudly, Soren had to clamp his hands over his ears.

Wincing in pain, he glanced up to assess the effectiveness of the strike. From what he could see, Ike’s aim had been perfect. Ragnell was wedged right underneath one of the larger scales, and it was embedded all the way to the hilt. Suddenly Ike adjusted his grip and uncrossed his legs so his body swung around. This caused the blade to wrench within the wound, and Dheginsea cried out a second time.

Now Ike was dangling far above the ground, and Dheginsea was writhing worse than ever. Soren knew he wouldn’t be able to hang on. Fortunately, Tibarn swooped down, shouting, “Let go!” Ike did, and the Hawk King caught him.

Everyone scrambled backward, and Kurthnaga finally released his father’s neck. From a relatively safe distance, they all stared as Dheginsea trembled and panted. “Well done,” he rumbled, and his voice sounded much weaker. With shaking claws, he pinched Ragnell’s hilt and pulled out the sword. It fell to the ground, and blood pumped in surges through the hole it left. “You…have beaten me.” With one final shudder of his serpentine body, Dheginsea reverted to his human form. Then, staggering, he collapsed.

Kurthnaga reverted as well and ran forward. Ena must have left Nasir’s side, because she was right behind him. Ike and Micaiah followed, while Soren and the others approached more cautiously.

“Father!” Kurthnaga cried, falling to his knees and taking the king’s head in his lap. Dheginsea’s eyes were melted shut from light magic, and his face was bloodied with dozens of pricks that been arrow holes when he’d been full-sized.  

“Don’t lose your head now, boy,” Dheginsea scolded softly. “This wound…” He reached up and seized the bloody hole right above his heart. Blood seeped between his fingers. “This is nothing. Your power… How could you defeat me? I was blessed by…Ashera herself.”

“I gave them my blessing,” answered Yune, having taken Micaiah’s body as her own.

Dheginsea turned his head, unseeing, to the sound of her voice. “Yune?” he wheezed in disbelief. “Is that you?”

“That war long ago…” she said, and her voice was full of sorrow. “I’m so sorry. You were right to fight against me. I was young and immature. The great flood was a result of my unchecked emotions.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Yune,” Dheginsea replied. “I always knew you weren’t actually evil… You were just too powerful.”

“So why did you choose Ashera again? I had hoped that this time you would join me to help protect the people.”

“I’m sorry, Yune. But I’ve done worse to you…” Dheginsea’s voice was hardly more than a whisper. “Long ago, we made a vow before the Goddess Ashera herself. We vowed that we, the laguz and beorc, would never commit the same genocidal sins. We didn’t keep our promise… And for that reason, I was committed to accepting my just punishment.”

“Silly, stubborn old scalebag,” Yune sniffed, wiping her eyes. “You just don’t know when to quit… You need to lighten up.”

“To convince the laguz kings to follow my example, I rewrote history, hid my tracks, and declared you a dark god. All I ever wanted was to avoid conflict… Please, forgive me.”

“Don’t worry about it, Dheginsea,” Yune whispered back, “I caused enough trouble for you, so I’ll forgive you just this once.”

“I’m pleased to hear that.” Now the king moved his head, as if looking for someone he couldn’t see. “…Ena?” he asked, and in response she knelt beside him and gingerly took his hand. He seemed to summon the last of his strength to grip hers back. “I would like to tell you only that I wish you the greatest happiness in life. If the end of man does not come and there is still a future…then I want you to live happily. My dear son would have wished for that as well.”

“Th-thank you, sir,” Ena replied with tears falling from her eyes.

“Now, Kurthnaga…” Dheginsea’s entire body relaxed, and his fingers became loose in Ena’s hand. His head tilted back in his son’s lap. “Tell my lovely Almedha…to cherish…her life…and that I am sorry.”

“I will,” Kurthnaga promised.

“Good… Now, get these men moving… I will remain here, for I cannot move.”

“Yes, Father,” Kurthnaga choked through painful-looking tears. “We will stop Ashera. Wait here for our return. We will be back.”

“…Yes, my son. I’ll be…waiting.” Despite his promise, his final word became his last breath, which left his body in a long, hollow sigh.

“Father!” Kurthnaga called out. Sobs wracked his shoulders.

Ena enveloped him in a hug. “Kurth… He’s gone.”

Yune, meanwhile, had perked up and was now wandering away, gazing around as if she saw something no one else did. “It’s happening again…” she murmured and then suddenly called out: “Whose memory is this?” Everyone stared at her, but no one offered a reply. She was now staring at the nearby exit. “Something feels so…familiar about it. Is that… Is that your memory?” she asked the door (or perhaps the very air in front of her).

“Um, are you okay?” Ike asked, hesitantly touching her shoulder.

Yune spun around, looking confused. But her demeanor calmed a moment later. “Yes, I’ll be fine. It is just…the memories are so strong here.”

Ike nodded as if that made sense, and Yune turned away from him again. Walking forward, she opened the doors, which led to more floating stairs. These were not as solid as the ones they’d walked before; there were gaps between many of the steps. Soren wondered if this meant they were getting close to the top.

He also found himself wondering if they would ever make it back down.