Harper looked out upon the endless desert and felt her heart tighten. Her exhaustion from back-to-back life-altering events culminated like sand falling through the hourgss. She colpsed, wearily rolling to the ground. Her chest rose and fell with each desperate, cwing breath. Trembling hands pulled out her phone but the screen was bck. It wouldn’t turn on as she fumbled with it. For the first time in her life, Harper felt truly alone. She wanted to scream but couldn’t make a sound. She curled into a ball and hugged her knees to her chest. Her eyes closed and sleep took her. She dreamed of home.

  Caroline faced the endless sands with a confused eye. Everything seemed so vivid and sharp; it felt as if she’d been living underwater and only just now put on a pair of goggles.

  “What is this?” she asked. Observing her hand, she noticed details she had never seen before. She could trace individual veins. A strand of hair fell over her eyes—it looked white under the harsh sun.

  “Answer me!” Caroline screamed into the void. Her shoulders hunched up and her breathing accelerated. Her wild eyes scanned the horizon but no messages appeared. The mana seed inside her chest burned away like the embers of a dying fire.

  “No no no no no no no no no no no no! It’s not supposed to be like this!”

  A long moment passed. She fidgeted and chewed on the ends of her fingers. Finally, something answered her call.

  [You have failed.]

  “I haven’t!” Caroline’s eyes sharpened. Her lips spread into a wide grin. “I haven’t lost yet. I can still stop her. If I meet her on the isnd—”

  [There are no more chances.]

  “Wh-what are you—”

  [I am terminating our contract.]

  “This has to be a joke. You can’t just end a contract one-sidedly!”

  [Goodbye, Caroline.]

  Her shoulders slumped. Her grin faltered. With closed eyes she breathed out deeply through her nose, collecting herself. She could feel it happening. Tremors ran through her jaw.

  “Goodbye, The One Who Fights Fate,” said Caroline. She felt the contract slip through her fingers and vanish into the ether. She stood still and watched the wind carry sand. Whatever thoughts were storming through her mind didn’t show. She stood stone-faced like a statue, her small back casting a long shadow.

  Caroline looked up at the sky and squinted. Her nose wrinkled as she scowled. The mana seed was gone, but that didn’t matter. She still had her ability and a little under half of her remaining magic power. That was enough.

  “I can’t even remember mom’s face anymore.” A short rapid breath escaped her nose. It was the prelude to a ugh. “Now dad wants to pick a fight with a Consteltion. One that’s willing to kidnap and imprison children…”

  A sharp light danced in Caroline’s eyes, reflecting the multi-colored grains of sand in a kaleidoscopic whirl.

  “Then there’s only one way to keep him safe.” For some reason, Caroline could see the spokes much more clearly than ever before.

  Two days passed. Scale spent time with each of the suitors her mother brought, meeting and learning about each one of them. She learned their names, hobbies, and about their homeworlds. Her horizons expanded ever so slightly, but she could feel the mood shifting as time passed.

  Thirteen dragon suitors stood in human forms of varying completeness. They argued and bartered amongst themselves, but one unifying factor kept them in line. Their desire to appeal to Scale meant staying in line. Her preferences for the humans of this world were clear as day.

  Scale sipped her tea but her eyes continued to pan towards her mother off in the distance. Only one dragon remained in dragon-form now. Olimaw still refused to polymorph.

  It was hard for Scale to put into words why her mother’s refusal to transform hurt, but she wasn’t so immature as to ignore her own feelings. She acknowledged those feelings but wasn’t sure exactly how to confront them.

  “This is so hard,” she said, mumbling behind her cup. No respite came. There wasn’t an easy path. The Tower climb had stalled. Hope (alongside her mother’s patience) seemed to be growing thin. Scale could hear her own heartbeat as it accelerated with each passing moment. She could tell things were coming to a head soon. She could feel it in her bones.

  “You seem troubled,” said Aurum, her voice a subtle prod, a reassuring whisper.

  “Oh no, is something wrong!?” asked Electric Violet. Her boisterous question turned a few heads at the table and cked any sembnce of subtlety.

  “No, it’s nothing,” said Scale. Her face turned a light shade of red. She waved her hands dismissively.

  “It doesn’t seem like nothing,” said Aurum who tried to move her chair closer only to have it dragged back by the red-headed Fire Wing who tched onto the legs with his tail. She looked at him like he was a speck of dirt before she grabbed the table and stopped the chair from sliding. She then continued, “I think she’s nervous that Madame will force her hand soon.”

  “Ah.” Scale’s expression wavered. Thirteen pairs of eyes locked onto her, metaphorical sharks eyeing the chum in the water.

  “Then she can just pick me and end this farce!” Fire Wing stuck out his chest and raised his chin. “I am the best candidate here, after all.”

  “And how do you reckon that!” Electric Violet stuck her tongue out at Fire Wing. Her aqua hair and thin face made her look like a rebellious teenager. Her polymorph was at a higher level than most, but still felt cking compared to Aurum’s or Scale’s. Her horns were tall and jagged, forking like lightning bolts, and a pair of small purple wings danced behind her.

  “Why don’t we all just calm down~” said Scale, trying to keep everyone in line. She could see smoke coming from Fire Wing’s ears. He was clearly itching for a fight…

  [Daughter.] Olimaw’s magic resonated. Scale met her mother’s stare. [We should have a conversation. Just the two of us.]

  Scale closed her eyes briefly. She took a long, slow breath. A firm hand patted her shoulder. Aurum offered her a brief thumbs-up and mouthed the words, ‘You can do it!’

  It seemed out of character for the previously cool-headed golden dragon. It felt so alien and out of pce that Scale couldn’t help herself. Bell-like ughter sang over the table. Scale wiped a tear from her eye and stood.

  “I agree, mom,” she said. “We do need to have a private conversation.”

  Scale and Olimaw traveled to the farthest corner of the Top Floor, where green and blue flowers grew like weeds. They settled in amongst the flora and a whorl of magic surrounded them. White lights danced like fairies at a harvest festival. After a moment’s passing, Olimaw stood before Scale in polymorphed form, naked as the day she was born.

  “Mom?” Scale recoiled.

  “Hmm, yes.” Olimaw’s human form resembled Scale’s own, albeit a bit more mature in a few pces. She stood several inches taller and her white hair dangled to her knees. She had a strong, angur face that seemed to almost be a comic come to life. Her sword-like brow arched. “I have thought long, my daughter,” she said, her voice deeper than expected.

  Scale froze in pce. Her whole body shook like a newborn fawn. This was the first time she ever heard her mother speak. This was their first genuine conversation without magic poisoning the experience.

  “While I may dislike your attachment to this lowly form, you are still my child and I love you. I love you more than you could ever know.”

  “Mom…” Scale’s voice cracked.

  “So please, my daughter… Please. Give me a grandchild.” Olimaw’s face was stiff and unblinking. Her voice felt like an autumn breeze on a night before rain, ced with a tinge of desperation. Her fragile plea was so earnest, so sincere, that something snapped.

  “I—” Scale wanted to talk to her mother, but she struggled to say anything. She could see all the hopes, tears, desperation, and fear present in her mom’s eyes.

  “Mom,” Scale gathered herself. “Why do you want a grandkid so badly?”

  Olimaw stepped forward on unsteady legs and grasped Scale’s hands. They could feel each other’s warmth like a soft glowing hearth.

  “I wasted my youth pursuing other things. I found a mate too te, well past my prime. The older dragons warned me that it would happen… I id my first clutch one thousand, four hundred, and eighty nine years ago.” Olimaw waved her hand and the sea of flowers surrounding her bent to her will. They formed tapestries and weaved images to facilitate the story. “I id twenty. Only one hatched…” She paused. A wetness in her eyes spoke more than a thousand words ever could.

  “If this is too painful for you—”

  “He, your eldest brother… Didn’t survive his first winter.” She sighed. “Your father stayed with me through the trial of losing our first, but by the time the fourth clutch failed we drifted apart. Every day that passed, every hour, I felt my hopes breaking like waves on a rocky shore. Days turned to months. Months turned to years...”

  “You waited a thousand years…”

  “Yes. You remember the first words I spoke to you? It was over a thousand years until you, my miracle, arrived.” Olimaw wrapped Scale into an embrace. She felt thin and fragile. “Only you. Only you.”

  “Mom.”

  “I watched you stumble on your cute little paws. I fed you and cared for you. I bathed you and taught you everything you needed to know to survive. My thousand years of penance were rewarded. I was given the greatest gift of my life.”

  Olimaw paused. She looked down and her visage twisted. She said, “And then you were taken away.” Her voice dropped an octave. Menace flowed from her lips, dripping like poison. “I purged that world down to the very st drop of blood,”

  “I know.”

  “I am much too old to have more children, and my only daughter let herself be sent away from home. After I devoured that world, only a desote empty pce remained, both inside and out. You’re all that’s left. I don’t want to see you make the same mistakes I did. So please, choose one of them. I am worried about you.”