Mereque felt the world slow to a crawl.

  Time stretched, every heartbeat a thunderclap as his gaze snapped toward the distant flash Hexabulous had sensed—a glint of opal-veined bone streaking between mounds of rubble and half-collapsed walls.

  The javelin—forged from the Wyrm’s own tooth—hurtled straight for them.

  Too fast.

  He didn’t even have time to get Grace out of the way.

  His augments were supposed to make him practically unstoppable. This world made a point of reminding him how inadequate he was.

  Before thought could catch action, Hexabulous pivoted with impossible speed for his wounded bulk.

  The great dragon twisted, placing his massive frame squarely between Mereque, Grace, and the incoming strike.

  He saw its body turning, every detail captured in his artificially enhanced optical nerve.

  Mereque owed the dragon much—he couldn’t have made it this far without him.

  Then the briefest glimpse of the five-pointed thing crossing the space towards them, hooked at the end—designed to deliver mayhem.

  The weapon punched through scale, spine, and heart in a single, sickening wet crunch.

  No!

  His HUD pulsed (urgent red):

  ALLIED STATUS: HEXABULOUS – CRITICAL

  INJURY: PENETRATING TRAUMA

  LOCATION: SPINE / HEART

  VITALS: COLLAPSING

  BLOOD LOSS: SEVERE

  RECOMMENDATION: IMMEDIATE MEDICAL INTERVENTION REQUIRED

  Hard red flakes shot past his face; one left a cut from nose to ear—a line of blood sprouted along the gash.

  But he had time enough.

  He stood between shrapnel from the dragon’s injury and the fairy they had come to save.

  Grace was safe.

  Hexabulous crashed to the ground before them, a mountain brought low.

  A distorted cheer swelled from the surrounding ruins—rising and falling, until it became a deafening roar, as the Blanched celebrated their unexpected triumph.

  The dragon’s blood-red eyes opened, fixing on Mereque with a burning intensity.

  His voice emerged a ragged growl, soft yet unbreakable. “RX will get you out. We can’t let the Weeper lay its chains on you. You’re too important… to the future of the world.”

  “Master Hexabulous!” Grace cried, tears welling in her eyes.

  “Don’t fret, Fay girl.” A faint, crooked smile tugged at his fanged maw. “The Machine knows what to do.”

  His eyes slowly slid shut.

  At that instant, RX414’s shadow fell over them. The construct dove like a meteor, cargo bay yawning wide. Mereque snatched Grace up with one arm and leapt as it skimmed the ground, barely slowing. They tumbled inside; he caught a handrail, halting their slide with a jolt.

  The roar of the wind blasted their faces from the still open hold, but in a heartbeat they were airborne, climbing quickly away.

  Below, Hexabulous’s crimson form dwindled—swallowed by smoke, ash, and the black-and-white tide of swarming Blanched.

  His HUD flashed (fading amber):

  ALLIED SIGNAL: HEXABULOUS – WEAK

  DISTANCE: INCREASING

  VITALS: ERRATIC / DECLINING

  VISUAL LOCK: BREAKING

  RECOMMENDATION: MAINTAIN ESCAPE MANEUVER

  Soon even that vanished, lost in the haze.

  Dawn did not illuminate the Shimmering City as one might expect. Instead, it fed the unnatural refraction, amplifying the opal glow until it became a blinding haze—even Mereque's augmented eyes had trouble filtering the radiant beams that evil place created. They were unnatural to his technological hardware.

  His HUD pulsed (amber):

  ENVIRON. SCAN: RADIANT ANOMALY

  SOURCE: SHIMMERING CITY

  FILTERING FAILURE: 68%

  VISUAL INTEGRITY: COMPROMISED

  ACTION: MANUAL OVERRIDE

  — INEFFECTIVE —

  RECOMMENDATION: RECALIBRATE

  They flew north at blistering speed yet with a measured precision, RX414 was careful to maintain a safe velocity for the pair.

  The bay sealed behind them, leaving them in the quiet hum of the machine’s interior.

  With Grace leading, Mereque stepped into the passenger compartment—open views through a transparent panel and dual screens greeted them.

  Mereque barely strapped himself in before the ruined metropolis vanished below, replaced in a heartbeat by the northern coastline.

  Adrenaline made the transition feel instantaneous: from frantic chaos to serene shores where gentle waves lapped against discolored sands without judgment.

  Grace’s rescue tasted bittersweet.

  Leaving Hexabulous behind felt wrong—to both man and Fay.

  I never thought he’d be so damn honorable.

  His HUD flashed (a soft amber):

  ADRENALINE SPIKE: RESIDUAL 42%

  HEART RATE: ELEVATED

  EMOTIONAL STATE: GRIEF / GUILT

  RECOMMENDATION: MONITOR VITALS

  Mereque met her eyes, voicing their shared unease to the ever-listening machine. “RX, why here? We saved Grace, but it feels unfinished. Is there nothing we can do to help the dragon?”

  “Aye, Master Hexabulous—he risked life and limb. Can we do nothing… but run?” Grace squeaked, her voice cracking.

  If the Construct could navigate the intricate nuances of human communication, it left little doubt now: responding with unexpected compassion from something—that Mereque knew—was profoundly inhuman at its core.

  “Bzzz… Your concerns are understandable. Do not worry. Hexabulous and I prepared contingencies for this potential outcome.”

  Prepared?

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Mereque squeezed his hands together—stifled a shiver.

  His HUD pulsed (soft amber):

  ALERT: NEURAL TRAUMA DETECTED

  LINGERING EFFECT: 28%

  EMOTIONAL STATE: RESPECT / FEAR

  — MIXED GRIEF —

  RECOMMENDATION: MONITOR

  I could do without the reminders.

  But he knew the system was only looking out for his well being. It was designed to. The trauma he’d experienced from the machine’s hack still lingered. He could tell it had softened, and now—after what Hexabulous had just done for them—slid rightly toward genuine respect. The willingness to sacrifice struck deep; as a soldier, he recognized the brotherhood in it.

  “What kind of contingencies?” Mereque asked, concern sharp in his voice—clenched hands releasing.

  “Bzzz… We concluded your safety was paramount. Had I fallen—an unlikely event—he would have fled the city with you both.”

  “And if he was to fall—it was up to you.”

  “Bzzz… That is correct.”

  “Is that it?” Grace burst out, eyes glistening. “You planned for your deaths. Don’t you care? He’s your friend! Tell us there’s more we can do. Leaving him behind… it feels—so wrong.”

  RX414 hummed softly, as if weighing the heartfelt plea. Mereque hoped—perhaps more than he reasonable should have—that her words would touch something in the machine. It had demonstrated empathy before—even if it was born from its clinical underlying calculations.

  When it answered, the tone was subdued, almost mournful. “Bzzz… He is my friend, Lady Grace. But death is an old acquaintance to us. We have walked side by side with it for ages. I am not immune to bonds forged over millennia of partnership. Believe me: Hexabulous’s fall will not go unanswered. Nor would I accept it at face value. Not all is as it seems—especially where the First of the Great Dragons is concerned.”

  First? What does it mean by that?

  His HUD flashed (curious blue):

  LOG: "FIRST OF THE GREAT DRAGONS"

  CROSS-REFERENCE: ANCIENT LORE

  CATALOGUE QUERY: INSUFFICIENT DATA

  — NO REFERENCE FOUND —

  OBSERVATION: MORE INFORMATION NEEDED

  Not right now.

  “Are you saying he’s alive?”, Mereque asked, struggling to accept that a wound so grievous might not be fatal—even to beings like these. “Can we save him?”

  “Bzzz… Yes, it is possible,” RX414 replied. “But now—it falls to the two of you.”

  “The two of us?”

  The words struck both man and Fay like a spark in dry tinder. They turned to each other, eyes wide, a fragile thread of hope rekindled.

  “Us?” Grace repeated, disbelief in her voice.

  “Bzzz… Affirmative,” the machine stated, as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world.

  “What can we do? How can we help Hexabulous?” Mereque pressed, tone shifting—fiery determination rising.

  RX414 brought up images on the flanking screens—maps, glimpses of towering spires half-veiled in mist, nestled among ancient trees. “Bzzz… I will provide general coordinates to a location you will need to travel to. Once there, seek the island of Aught Naur Aught. With luck, it will be in the vicinity.”

  “In the vicinity?” Mereque echoed. “Don’t tell me it’s another giant monster that swims around.”

  “Bzzz… I assure you—it is not a giant monster.”

  “Thank the stars for that.”

  “Bzzz… However, it does tend to move.”

  Of course it does. Aught Naur Aught. Another mystery.

  Mereque’s system pinged—a reminder. Not his first encounter with the name.

  “I’ve heard of it before,” he said, memory surfacing. “The Havenites mentioned it in their logs, and Grace—you spoke of it once, when we first met.”

  Grace squeezed his arm eagerly. He leaned in as she spoke, voice bright with wonder. “Long ago, it’s said, some men learned to wield magic—a power to command the natural world. They built a haven for themselves and any like-minded soul. Not just men—creatures from all corners found welcome. Even Fay went and stayed; some returned with tales that made our own home seem plain. It’s a place of wonders beyond even fairy dreams.”

  “It sounds too good to be real,” Mereque said, curiosity sharpening his voice. “If it’s a refuge, shouldn’t it be easier to find?”

  Grace’s gaze grew distant. “It was, according to the stories. But the folk of Aught grew wary. They turned inward, used their powers to veil the city from outside eyes—even ours.”

  “Why?”

  “Whispers say they tired of fighting, so they hid away. They left the world to sort out its own troubles—without them.”

  “Bzzz… That account is accurate.”

  “You know more than you’re saying.”

  “Bzzz… Time is short. My instruction take priority over explanation. When you reach your destination, seek out the ancient House of the VonTarns.”

  Well, that’s one way to dodge a question.

  “Then what? How is this going to help the dragon?”

  “Bzzz… Tell the Headmaster I sent you. Then—inform him the King of All Death must close the Gates of Mortu—and keep them closed—they will understand what must be done.”

  His HUD flashed (amber alert):

  NEW OBJECTIVE: FIND HEADMASTER

  HOUSE: VONTARN

  LOCATION: AUGHT NAUR AUGHT

  DETAILS: FABLED ISLAND OF WIZARDS

  RECOMMENDATION: PROCEED

  Mereque absorbed the words, the weight settling heavy. “I don’t get it… it sounds impossible. But it wouldn’t be the most impossible thing I’ve seen since coming here. If it saves the dragon, we’ll do it.”

  “Aye,” Grace added softly, concern for RX414 plain in her voice. “And you, great one? Will you be safe?”

  “Bzzz… I will contain the enemy. The Wyrm and its servants must be kept in check. I will hold them until your task is complete. Return to me when it is done. Do not worry for me—they cannot delete my existence. Borag Nord approaches; I must deploy the Umbrella. I advise you to leave now. Our enemies do not rest.”

  Even as it spoke, the bay door yawned open. RX414 released them onto the waiting beach—alongside a steel object it dropped into the sand.

  They watched RX414 depart, its steel-plated form glinting brighter in the advancing daylight as it accelerated northward. Unburdened now, the machine dwindled swiftly to a luminous speck against the sky.

  Alone on the beach, Mereque and Grace shared a worried glance before turning to the object RX414 had left behind.

  It was a lightweight, metal-framed craft—rectangular, tapering to a point at one end with a curved hull for buoyancy. Deep enough for them to sit inside, it featured three small, rounded openings at the stern.

  To Mereque, they looked like exhaust ports. A compact engine housing confirmed his suspicion: motorized propulsion.

  His HUD pulsed (soft blue):

  OBJECT SCAN: WATERCRAFT IDENTIFIED

  MATERIAL: LIGHTWEIGHT ALLOY

  PROPULSION: MOTORIZATION DETECTED

  CONDITION: A+ BUOYANCY CONFIRMED

  OBSERVATION: SUITABLE FOR ALL YOUR TRANSPORTATION NEEDS

  You don’t say.

  He lifted it easily and carried it to the water’s edge. With a splash, he set it afloat.

  It bobbed stably. After another appraising look, he called back to Grace. “It left us a boat.”

  “Aye, he blesses us,” she replied, skipping down the sand and hopping onto his shoulder to avoid the waves. “We mustn’t fail him, Mereque.”

  “We won’t,” he said firmly.

  Together they climbed aboard the sleek metal watercraft.

  ? ? ?

  “Is he dead?” Tarmour asked the priest, hovering mere meters above the wreckage—silent guards standing watch nearby.

  He held the Wyrm’s Tooth in one hand. The tines of its five-pointed head were still wet with the dragon’s insides. It dripped red slowly.

  “We cannot be certain, Anointed One,” Keigael replied, shuffling closer from the crimson-scaled corpse. “The heart has stopped, yet the body remains warm—hot in places. His size and nature may simply delay the cooling.”

  “Until his flesh rots from his bones, assume nothing,” Tarmour commanded darkly. “Bind him. We cannot risk this one—he could end us all.”

  A column of waiting Blanched Knights surged forward all at once, weaving chains of mystic light around the fallen dragon’s body.

  To the onlookers it seemed excessive caution. But Tarmour, through his deep bond with the Weeper, knew ancient truths long forgotten.

  Few realised that certain dragons needed no heart to live. Their vast musculature could pump blood through the flexing of the surrounding supporting tissues.

  He did not question how the Wyrm knew this—he did not question his god’s omnipotence. Yet he wondered at the flicker of memory he had glimpsed: some connection between the Weeper and the Great Red Dragon lurked in the distant past.

  Their master had been injured, but he would recover. Physical pain meant little to him—next to the pain of the endless sorrow that consumed his soul. And now the newly baptized Children of the Moon had joined their ranks. Crying Giants—rechristened—who would prove invaluable.

  As the Weeping Wyrm retreated into the depths, it poured its anguish through the bond and into him—raw, overwhelming grief.

  Caustic tears erupted unbidden from Tarmour’s eyes. In that flood he understood—he was becoming the King of Tears, true awakened avatar of his unholy god.

  He had been overwhelmed—feeling as if every cell of his body was being scoured from the inside out. The agony was exquisitely brutal.

  The torrent threatened to drown him. He redirected it into the newly awakened giants—out of desperation for relief. And it worked. Their faces vanished behind curtains of caustic excretions, evolving them into living conduits for the Weeper’s corruption.

  No longer one source of unholy water—now a score. With them the blight could spread far beyond current borders. The world would soon be at their feet.

  Tarmour gestured. Two towering giants lumbered forward and settled their immense weight upon the dragon’s back.

  If shattered spine and pierced heart had not killed him, slow drowning surely would.