He raised his head proudly. “I’m more a dragon than any of those proud gold dragons who ambushed you like cowards. And I gained this control over my body when I accepted that I was in the form that suited me best.”
“I am grateful to have you back in any form,” Lindon said. “But I do admit, I was afraid I wouldn’t recognize you.”
“The lot of you need a shell more than you need fangs and claws.” Orthos glanced down at himself. “But…hmmm…I didn’t realize it would take so much soulfire to grow. And just as much to shrink.”
Lindon had a little experience in the subject, and he could recall information more efficiently thanks to Dross’ presence. Even if Dross himself was unconscious.
“That’s because you did it so quickly, and without practice. You strained your channels and your body. If you practice changing and do it gradually, you’ll lessen the strain and the cost.”
When Orthos looked at him, he felt compelled to add: “At least, that’s what it’s normally like for sacred beasts who take human form.”
He had absorbed memories from many dragons, and while he left the sorting of most memories to Dross, he had seen his share. But dragons almost exclusively adopted human form, which was the smoothest body in which to advance.
“I’ll find out for myself, now that we have time to practice.”
Orthos obviously felt something in their spiritual connection, because he eyed Lindon again. “We do have time, Lindon.”
“There’s still so much to do. The Dreadgods are still around, I’ve barely scratched the surface of what a Sage can do, the people from the Valley need somewhere to settle, and Dross…”
“A hunter doesn’t catch its prey by dashing at full speed all the time. You need a lair, Lindon. Even the most powerful dragon curls up and rests.”
Lindon glanced in the direction of Windfall.
“That’s a base,” Orthos rumbled. “But it could be a home. If you made it one.”
Lindon sighed and placed his hand on the wall of leather that was Orthos’ skin. “Gratitude. I’ll try. But I do plan to take a look inside the labyrinth. At least the outer edges, for now.”
“Maybe the greatest challenge I could give you is to keep your feet still for a month.” Orthos snorted out great plumes of smoke. “At least take us with you.”
“I’m not sure you’ll fit.”
“Then you’ll have to wait for me, won’t you?”
“Not just you. I don’t plan on going alone.”
Orthos grunted. “You should check the condition of the others, then.”
Lindon felt the turtle’s concern in his spirit. “Mercy?”
“She still hasn’t woken up.”
Mercy had suffered significant spiritual injuries after the Wandering Titan had shattered her bloodline armor, but even the attention of Little Blue hadn’t been enough to restore her. Her madra channels were connected to her Book of Eternal Night in a unique way that Lindon still didn’t understand.
If her life had been in danger, he would have contacted the Akura clan already. Even as it was, every hour that passed threatened the appearance of Akura Charity.
Now, the time had come for a more thorough inspection.
“I’ll take a deeper look,” Lindon said. “Heal well, Orthos. Don’t scare the Golds.”
Lindon flew off.
Left behind, Orthos twisted in the air. He reached out and munched into a pile of boulders the humans had piled up for him nearby. To his current size, they were little more than a handful of nuts.
As he crunched, he murmured aloud.
“Too big…”
The tears had long dried on Mercy’s cheeks. She shivered as she pressed her body against the cold stone wall, trying to build up the courage to peek around the corner.
In fact, the wall wasn’t stone. It was more like condensed madra with properties like stone. Nothing in this spiritual space was real, physically speaking.
But it was real enough to make her fingers tremble against her bow. She hadn’t come here consciously, so she hadn’t been able to bring Suu with her. Instead, she had Forged her own bow and arrows out of Strings of Shadow.
It was the only thing that protected her here, deep inside her own soul.
In the fifth page of the Book of Eternal Night.
This whole place was built from shadow and nightmares, and the Dream of Darkness technique hung like mist in the air. Every time she let her guard down for an instant, her spirit was flogged with terror.
And she wasn’t alone.
One by one, pale fingers slithered out of the darkness to grip the edge of the corner in front of her.
She raised her bow instantly, but something cold brushed the back of her neck at the same time. Mercy screamed and turned, coming face-to-face with one of the pale demons that haunted this nightmare world.
Its face was made of white clay, except for its teeth, which gleamed like sharpened and yellowed bone. Its milky eyes bulged.
“Ours now,” it whispered.
Her arrow took it in the chest, and it didn’t notice.
“Ours now,” came a whisper from the other side.
Mercy bolted, but she’d been caught before. They weren’t here to tear her to pieces, but to feed on her fear and her fading will. That should have relieved her, but it didn’t. Not at all.
Their touch, and the very air of this place, struck her deepest horror and trauma. They could inject pure fear into her.
So when she fled, she trembled until fingers grabbed her. Then she screamed.
“Oh! Apologies,” Lindon said.
She whipped her head around to stare at him in shock.
He was glancing around with open curiosity. “This is fascinating. I’d heard of spiritual spaces, and of course we’re here only in spirit, but it seems like it should be possible to enter this place in a body. Have you ever come here physically?”
“Lindon! Are you…real?”
The Dream of Darkness couldn’t be used to manually create illusions, but she had found that she had a hard time separating imagination from reality here. She’d hallucinated rescue before.
But this felt very different.
“It’s just my soul, but I’m interested that we don’t look like Remnants. I wonder if this is an effect of our perception, or if the Book itself makes us look like we do on the outside.” He took a deep breath, as though savoring the scent of the cavern. “Dross would love it here.”
Out of habit, Mercy looked over her shoulder for her stalkers. She saw none, but she felt eyes on her from the shadows. Or at least she imagined she did.
“How did you get here?”
Lindon rubbed the back of his neck, and between the gesture and his size, he reminded her of her Uncle Fury. “I do apologize; I was reluctant to interfere with the mechanism of a Divine Treasure created by a Monarch without Dross’ guidance, but you weren’t waking up.”
“How long has it been?” Mercy asked, a lump in her throat. If he had gotten worried, then she had to have been gone more than just a night.
“Three days.”
Mercy sagged in relief. “Oh, good. It only felt like a few hours to me.” If it had really felt like three days, she might have gone insane.
Lindon was about to respond, but the aura pressed in on Mercy again, forcing her to push against it. Pale fingers reached out to Lindon, and she raised her bow to defend him.
Lindon’s eyes turned to blue crystal with circles of white where his irises had been. Blue-white pure madra pushed out from him.
The creatures hissed as his Hollow Domain pushed against them, and they fled like rats from a fire.
As the Domain passed over Mercy, she felt a burden lift from her. Her knees went weak, and she collapsed, but Lindon caught her and steadied her before she hit the floor.