Ch7

Chapter 7 There were any number of reasonable objections that Dross could have made to the Soulsmith operation, but since the construct seemed happy enough going along with it, Lindon certainly wasn't going to say anything. First, he moved the bucket of Dream Well water in front of Orthos. Then he forced the turtle's mouth open and poured a vial of the purple water down his throat. It didn't quite wake him, but Lindon could feel his consciousness smooth out. His sleep went from rough and fearful to soft and deep. When he woke, he'd need some water, so hopefully the bucket would be enough. He'd always had trouble wrestling his thoughts, too; maybe the Dream Well could help him. With Orthos settled, Lindon sat Little Blue on the turtle's head. She gave a chirp, and he patted her with one finger. "When I'm done here, I'll have some food for you." Then he got to work. Binding a spiritual construct to a physical vessel was one of the basic skills of the Soulsmith. Essentially, he had to hold the construct into the exact shape of the vessel, then merge the two while using his own madra to tie them together. To stuff a ghost back into a body, both ghost and body had to match. There was only one complication that mattered: the sapphire already had a construct in it. So he was trying to meld two constructs and fix them both to the gem. Fisher Gesha would tell him to extract both Dross and the Eye of the Deep construct, then break them down piece by piece until he could rebuild them into one construct with the functions of both. Then he could bind that single construct to the gem or, preferably, another suitable vessel without a hole in it. Then she would have hit him for trying to do this without guidance.

But Lindon had neither the time, nor the experience, nor the equipment to do it that way. He wasn't sure that a living construct like Dross could even be safely deconstructed. He'd have to roll the dice. Not that he would put it to Dross that way. He extracted a pair of gold-plated tongs from the roll of tools, holding them up to show Dross. "I'll be using these to remove you from your vessel," he explained. "Then—" Dross zipped out of his rusted container. He hovered in the air, a purple cloud filled with violet sparks. Within the cloud, Lindon could see patterns of crossing lines, like Dross was made of a structure of ghostly timbers. "Done!" the construct said cheerily. "Now what?" Lindon put the tongs down. "Now…try not to resist." He put his left hand on the Eye, pouring pure madra into the construct. It was already filling most of the vessel, so he only had to focus on holding it still. That was easier said than done; it felt like trying to keep hold of a living heart that tried to escape his hand with every beat. Essence drifted out of the crack more quickly. Lindon reached out with his inhuman right hand, then hesitated. He needed his hands free to project the madra, which meant he couldn't hold the tongs. Of course, strictly speaking, he didn't need the tongs. After a moment of hesitation, he reached out for Dross with his white grip. "Please don't move." As Lindon seized Dross, he actually felt the construct in his Remnant hand. It felt like gripping a handful of cotton. A pang of hunger ran up the arm into Lindon's soul, but he kept the limb under control. An instant of lost focus, and the arm would devour Dross. "That gave me a tingle. Is everything all right?" Sweat rolled down Lindon's face, but he forced a smile. "Hold still, please." Now came the hard part. He had to project more pure madra around Dross to hold him in place. And it had to be exactly the right shape of the sapphire. Well, one step at a time. His madra still hadn't recovered much, so he needed to do this quickly. With a rough grip of madra, Lindon contained Dross' cloud-like form into a

jagged form roughly the shape of a cut gem. "It occurs to me," the construct said, "to wonder about my identity. You know what I mean? Was I me before I could think freely? Now, when you merge me with this key, I'll be taking on…who knows what memories and functions." In order to get this part of the process exactly right, Lindon should have made a mold of the sapphire. It was too late now, so he Forged Dross to match the cut sapphire. As closely as he could, he tried to get every ridge and facet in exactly the right place. His spiritual grip was slipping, and he was essentially bleeding madra. Even with the added focus from the Dream Well, he was having trouble holding both constructs in the right shape at the same time. Dross kept shifting gradually. "Will I think of myself differently? How will I see the world? Will I even be able to think anymore, or will I be like I was before?" Heavens help me, Lindon thought to himself. Then he shoved the constructs together, hoping they would match. "Will I be myself? What if I hate being a key, but it's too late?" There was resistance. Lindon had to push the last of his madra into the effort and shove them together until he forced them to click. It was a good thing Dross didn't have a physical body, or this would have been excruciatingly painful. "On second thought, I'm not sure I…" Dross' voice froze halfway through the sentence. The light in the gem flickered and rippled. Lindon's spiritual grip tightened; had he failed? Motion passed through the light, as though something were swimming inside the sapphire. The light started to change, staining the vessel purple. "…want to do this," Dross continued. "It's too risky, isn't it? Who would gamble their very self on a game of chance?" Lindon fell back, leaning against the wooden chest, holding up the gem that now shone purple. "We're done," he said, swiping sweat from his brow. "We are? Oh, that's good then. Now you mention it…" Dross flew out of the crack in the sapphire, leaving the jewel dull and dark. He looked very different than before: his nebulous cloud-form was more of a defined orb, and instead of simple lines, now he was a complex interlocking mechanism

of what looked like gears. The sparkling lights whirled in a deliberate, complex cyclone. "I feel good. I feel great, actually. It's like I've had one eye closed all my life, and now I've opened the other five." The drifting matrix of phantom machinery drifted around Lindon's head. "You've got quite a complicated soul, don't you? Two cores, I feel like that's an unusual number. And I can see your face so much more clearly now! It's…well, at least you have a wonderful spirit. Yes, indeed. That spirit of yours, wow." That was a little alarming. After this one operation, Dross had gained senses like a Jade's. Had the Eye of the Deep always sensed what was going on around it? Lindon folded his legs into a cycling position and fixed his gaze on Dross. "Now, maybe you can help us. We need to find a way out of here." "That's right in my wheelhouse. A guide and a key, that's me. Everything you need to find your way, all in one convenient bundle. Are we talking out of the Ghostwater world entirely, or out of this room?" "Both." "Ah, okay, right. Hmmm…there's a portal outside, which—" "Apologies, but that's no longer an option." Dross drifted slowly in a circle, like a man pacing. "There's another portal just like that one, but I won't lie to you: it's a little deeper in the facility. It's located in…Northstrider's…personal quarters." He said the Monarch's name in a hushed whisper. A stone sunk into Lindon's gut. "Can you open a Monarch's door?" "I am the Eye of the Deep now," Dross said confidently. "No problem at all. And this Monarch was of the opinion that the best security was his presence. I can open his door, don't you worry, but getting there is the trick." Lindon's tension eased slightly. "And how about out of this room?" "Even easier." He bobbed over to the keyhole and flashed brightly. "Here it is! I'm astonished you didn't notice this before, actually." "I'm afraid there may be someone out there waiting for me. I admit, I was hoping for another exit." Dross whirled in the air and then swooped over to the keyhole. Half of him dipped into the wall. His insides shone, a mass of phantom gears, and the clouds of sparks within him flickered and rolled.

"Ekerinatoth of the gold dragons," he announced as he emerged. "She goes by Ekeri, which is good, because that's faster to say. She is waiting just outside for her prey to surface. That's you, by the way. You're the prey." Lindon looked from the construct to the keyhole. "How did you know that?" "This whole place is a network of constructs. Just lousy with 'em. I popped in, sampled their memories for the last few hours, then popped out. Turns out there's all kind of records in there; the same factions have been coming back every ten years for over fifty years now, so we've piled up quite the hoard of juicy gossip." Lindon's interest spiked. This was something he could use. "What can you tell me about her?" "Well, she's close enough to Underlord that she can take on a humanoid form, can't she? By the time she reaches Archlord, she'll look even more human than you do. And there's every reason to suspect she will. She's the heir to the richest family on the continent, and they didn't get that way by not stealing everything that isn't nailed down, if you understand me. She practices the Path of the Flowing Flame, which involves dragon-fire behaving like a liquid. I imagine that's what she sprayed onto the door for about an hour after you vanished. Didn't do any good, of course. Those are high-quality rocks." The thought of fighting another Truegold made him feel like he was backed into a corner again, but he set that feeling aside. This was an opportunity to push himself forward. "Can you help me figure out how she fights?" "I don't know everything, do I? What do I look like, a...know-everything construct? That's a terrible name, I'm sorry, I'll try again. What do I look like, an omni-codex?" He brightened. "That sounds pretty good, actually. Omni-codex. Call me that from now on." "The only way we're getting out of here," Lindon said, "is through her." A deep, gravelly voice rumbled from behind him. "Now that is the path of a dragon." Orthos' eyes were dim, but they still smoldered with orange-red light. The black turtle shifted his bulk, and he let out a cough. On his head, Little Blue jumped up and down in excitement. Tension he hadn't even noticed melted from Lindon's shoulders. He'd been so concerned that Orthos would never wake up.

The turtle nodded to the bucket. "That's some good water. But I'll need more than that if I'm going to walk out of here. I need meat." "Then I need a way to get past Ekeri." Orthos laid his head on the ground, eyes sliding shut again, but his mouth crooked open in a smile. "Here's a lesson for you: dragons can be sneaky too." ~~~ Ekeri rested in her portable shelter only ten yards from the hidden entrance in the stone. The device could make a home out of nothing in only an hour, but it was designed for convenience, not comfort. The rooms in the shelter were bare Forged madra, and she had to carry around all her furnishings herself. She pulled a chair out of her void key and had set it up so she could watch out the second-story window. She had tried everything she could to force her way into the stone, but it was either dense with earth aura or protected by formidable scripts. Or both. The rock wasn't even scorched after her...perfectly calm and controlled assault. When that hadn't worked, she had vented her considerable irritation on the nearby vegetation. Now the sea-stalks around the shelter had been burned away, leaving nothing but sand. There was nothing blocking her view of the entrance. For the first hour, she watched with perfect patience. In the second hour, she began running her claws down the wall. By the third hour, she had clawed her window significantly wider. "Where are they?" she demanded of her attendants, and there was more dragon than human in her voice. She calmed herself an instant later—her Monarch lived in human form, and she strove to imitate him in all ways. She couldn't wait until her soulfire was strong enough to change her body completely. "Replying to the noble lady: they could stay inside until their supplies run out. Surely there would be greater prizes of more interest to milady in another section of the facility. Our maps indicate there is a sacred garden full of natural treasures only a short swim from here." Ekeri stopped herself when she realized she was growling. Her attendant was a bland man, younger than twenty, whose expressionless face was

almost identical to his counterpart's. Or maybe she was just bad at telling them apart. "There are secrets in there," she said, chewing on her claw. "A Lowgold doesn't come in here with a black dragon-spawn for nothing. They have secrets on them, and I want them." The two attendants exchanged glances, but their faces were so blank she could read nothing in them. "Allow me to make a proposal, if it pleases the noble lady. Let us scout out the nearby habitats, and we can report back to you whatever we find. Perhaps we might find something even more valuable than this black dragon-spawn's secrets." Ekeri kept gnawing on her claw for a moment as she thought. She didn't like the implication that she was pursuing the wrong prize, but at the same time, she didn't want to give up the other treasures of Ghostwater by focusing on one. Especially if the world was really collapsing soon. "One of you stay with me," she said. "I can't allow them to escape, and I won't watch this window on my own all day." "It would be my pleasure to stay," one of them said, voice empty of anything that resembled pleasure, "but surely they cannot escape your perception." That was true. There was virtually no chance that a black dragon-spawn or the human borrowing his draconic power could evade her, especially in this area full of water aura. Their madra would stand out like a bonfire in the snow. Irritably, she waved her hand to dismiss them. It was hard to give in when they were right. Plus, this place scraped her scales the wrong way; she couldn't even cycle aura here, as the power of water drowned out everything else. "Watch out for the wildlife," she called back to them as they left. The fish had been a handful for her, a Truegold, and her attendants were much weaker. Ekeri curled up on a couch, which she also produced from her void key, and tried to feel like she wasn't wasting her time by staying here. Several hours later, she had almost drifted off when she felt something pressing against the edge of her spiritual perception. It felt warm and welcoming. Like a roaring fire. She leaped up and dashed out of the house.

~~~ At first, it had gone so well. Lindon had already known the basics of veiling his spirit; essentially, he just kept the movement of his spirit slow and quiet, so there was little for an enemy to sense unless they scanned him directly. It was one of the simplest principles in the sacred arts, but as it turned out, Lindon had never had much cause to perfect the technique. He was always so much weaker than everyone else that he was difficult to sense anyway, and pure madra was perhaps the 'quietest' form of power he could practice. As a result, his veils were sloppy. For eight hours straight, Orthos forced him to practice veiling his power over and over until Orthos could feel the difference from only a yard away in the cave. Lindon pointed out that if Ekeri was nose-to-nose with him, she would be able to see him, which only earned him a lecture about how useful veils were. Especially for him, with his two cores; he needed to be able to hide anything unusual about his spirit at a moment's notice. On the bright side, the water from the Dream Well made the training practically paradise by Lindon's usual standards. Anytime his concentration wavered from its peak, or exhaustion started weighing him down, he took another vial of purple water and it was like starting over fresh. Lindon was starting to think he'd get addicted. Dross told him that he was the only sacred artist in the history of the facility to be able to use the Dream Well so lavishly, but as Lindon saw it, the water had been left to pile up for the past fifty-six years. It was about time someone used it. When Orthos was confident enough in Lindon's veil, Lindon made Dross check the situation outside. He contacted the security constructs and found that Ekeri had blanketed the area in her spiritual perception...but she wasn't physically watching his entrance anymore. So he'd snuck out quietly to go fishing. Orthos had declared his veil exceptional; not because of his hasty practice, but because pure madra was difficult to detect by nature. Any veil he made was twice as effective. Which brought up another problem: Lindon couldn't switch cores. He wasn't skilled enough to veil Blackflame, and that Path was hard to hide anyway. As a fellow dragon, Ekeri would be able to discover

Blackflame anywhere within this habitat—which was what Dross called the pockets of air within the giant bubbles. Which meant Lindon had to catch one of these Highgold-level fish, kill it, and bring it back without using Blackflame. He had a plan for that too, but not one he liked. He felt like he saw eyes on him with every crunch of his shoes on sand, but a golden dragon-girl didn't leap out of her two-story fortress of Forged madra and burn him to death, so he had to assume he was still hidden. After creeping around, it had only taken him a few minutes to locate one of the drifting fish. The bear-sized creature slid lazily over Lindon's head, silver scales glinting in the dim yellow light. Its fangs clashed like spears, but it didn't seem to notice him at all. As Dross had said, they seemed to hunt by spiritual perception alone. Dross, tucked away in the now-purple gem stuffed into the pocket of his outer robes, started to say something. Lindon slapped him. He muttered to himself, but stayed quiet. Now it was time to execute Orthos' plan, which—in its entirety— consisted of one step: "Hit it with your arm." Lindon couldn't help but feel a little nervous about that advice. Without a full-body Enforcer technique, Lindon had to use basic Enforcement on his entire body. The spirit had a strengthening effect on the body, with or without the guidance of a technique, and all he was doing was pouring effort into that. It was horribly inefficient, and it would exhaust his madra more quickly and provide worse results compared to a real Enforcer technique. However, it did make him stronger. Lindon jumped ten feet straight up, seizing the fish's tail in his left hand. He dragged it down to the ground, though the fish fluttered and strained to stay in the air. As it fell, it gave off a deafening shriek. Now he had a deadline. According to Dross, the fish screamed to one another every once in a while under natural conditions, so its cry shouldn't alert Ekeri, even if she heard it. However, the other fish would start coming immediately. He didn't sense any other sacred beasts within a hundred yards, so even in the worst-case scenario, he had a few seconds.

Lindon threw his whole body over the creature to pin it to the ground, though it was still strong. Its flailing and flopping nearly bucked him off. But in a moment, he had locked his legs around it. Now it was time to execute Orthos' plan. He pulled back his white arm, filling it with the power of his pure core, and began slamming it into the fish's head. The sacred beast screamed and screamed. Dross assured him they weren't any more intelligent than normal fish, just more powerful, but the shrieks bothered him anyway. Lindon hammered until the silver scales began to crack, and dark blood splattered his face. This is why I need a weapon, he thought. Of course, there was every chance he would have lost a weapon at the same time he had lost his pack. When the fish's spasms began to weaken, he gripped the sharp tips of his white fingers into its newly exposed flesh. Then he triggered the binding in his arm. Gladly, the limb started gulping down the creature's madra. The arm seemed to grow more dense as it fed, more real, though strangely enough it seemed to get a shade darker as well. Like it was shading to gray instead of its normal, pristine white. When Lindon had gotten the arm, he'd hoped that the hunger binding would allow him to steal madra from other sacred artists. That, he reasoned, would help him to learn more Paths. But other than the obvious practical downsides to such a plan, he'd since learned that the hunger binding was not as simple to use as the Ancestor's Spear had been. Maybe there would be a day when he could use the arm to pull madra into his core. Until then, he had at least learned one trick. When the arm had absorbed so much water madra from the fish that it started to tint blue-green, Lindon vented the excess power. Aquatic madra sprayed from his forearm, splattering like rain on the sand before it dissolved into essence. The arm could swallow some madra of any aspect to strengthen itself, but anything more than that amount would start changing the aspects of the limb's madra. Unless Lindon wanted the limb of a water-Remnant, he had to vent the extra madra before it corrupted the arm too much. The Ancestor's Spear had a similar feature, and Jai Long had used it in his battle against Lindon. Based on that principle, Lindon had a few ideas

for using it in combat, but he had yet to test any of them. Without its madra, the fish had lost the will to resist. It flopped once or twice more as Lindon drove his fist into its skull until he heard something crack. Then, at last, the creature was still. Without missing a breath, Lindon grabbed the creature in both hands and started dragging it across the sand. It wasn't quite as heavy as Orthos, but it still wasn't light. And silver-blue light bloomed as a Remnant began to rise from the body. The Remnant looked like a wire model of the same fish, and it pulled itself free of the body as Lindon continued marching. He kept an eye behind him, hoping to lose it, and let out a breath of relief as he passed around a clump of tree-sized stalks. The Remnants didn't seem as dangerous as their living forms. When he turned back to the front, he was standing face-to-face with a wall of fangs. This new fish gave a shriek that stabbed his ears, and Lindon ducked just in time. Even so, the fish's scales scraped against his scalp as it swam past his head. Lindon turned, following the fish...only to see the shining form of the Remnant drift straight through a stalk. There was no time to think. Without considering it another instant, he changed the pattern of his breathing and drew from the Path of Black Flame. Blackflame madra surged through his veins, filling him with heat. His channels still burned, despite Little Blue's healing touch, and he hadn't cycled aura to refill his core. There were only a few dim sparks of madra left in his core. Though it was enough for a few seconds of Burning Cloak. Lindon leaped at the Remnant first, kicking off in an explosive burst fueled by the Enforcer technique. He swept his Remnant hand down on the wiry spirit, clawing through its structure. His white fingers seized the pale blue wires that made up the Remnant's outer layer, and he dragged the Remnant down by its strings. Then he tore away a chunk of madra.

The Remnant's scream sounded like a crashing wave, but Lindon didn't have time to waste. A Cloak-powered fist punched through its head like a spear, then he turned to catch the living fish that was darting at him. He caught a lower fang in one hand and an upper fang in the other. The force of the creature's charge pushed him backward through the sand, and its breath stunk like dead fish and rotting vegetation. Nearby shrieks told him more of its school was coming. Orthos was always telling him that he needed to think more like a dragon. Eithan seemed to agree with him, considering his talk about tigerchasing. That was always easier to do with Blackflame raging through him. Even as his madra started to die, Lindon met eyes with the sacred beast. A dragon could not be defeated by a fish. He was the predator here. He had the power. The last of the Burning Cloak surged through his limbs, and his arms burned. He roared as he pushed power through both hands. In a massive rush of strength, he tore the fish apart. He stood with its body in his left hand and its lower jaw in his right, panting, blood coating the sand. As his Blackflame core winked out, he threw his head back and let out a shout of victory. Then he switched back to his pure core and instantly broke into a cold sweat. What had he been thinking? "See," Dross said from his outer robe, "you're not being stealthy at all. What you're doing there is being loud. You see? You see the difference?" Before the Remnant could rise from the new body, Lindon grabbed the old one and started running through the trees. Even his pure core was almost out of madra, and he silently thanked Eithan for the Heaven and Earth Purification Wheel; if he hadn't been practicing that technique for the last year, he would have run out of madra long before. By the time he could see the door, he knew he wasn't going to make it.

Chapter 8 He could feel Ekeri even before she leaped from the second floor of her shelter, landing in a puff of sand around her golden claws. Her tail swept behind her, and even though he found it hard to read any expression on her reptilian face, he was sure she was glaring at him. "The key," she said, holding out her hand. Lindon was tempted to give it to her. He could have Dross leave the Eye, then hand over the worthless sapphire, and use it as a distraction to dash for the door. But he'd have to abandon the fish if he did that, and Orthos was going to need to eat something. Lindon had seen him munch on everything from chairs to boulders, but there must be a reason the turtle hadn't just taken a bite out of the wall. He needed something more substantial. It was Lindon's job to bring it to him. Lindon dropped the fish, balanced on the balls of his feet, and raised his right arm. "Forgiveness, but I have to get past you." Her eyes flashed like a flare of sunlight, and she gave a cruel-edged laugh. "You've got a mouth on you, Lowgold." He pushed pure madra through his channels, sharpening his focus. He knew he couldn't actually defeat her here, especially not with an empty Blackflame core and a dying pure core. He was here to see how she fought. She would open the same way everyone else did: with a Striker technique. If he could drain some of its power away with his Remnant arm, then he could hopefully land an Empty Palm when she closed the distance. That would be his chance. The dragon rushed at him. He reached for her, but she moved like water, flowing around him. Her tail slipped around him, and her fist flashed out. Pain exploded in his chest like a hammer crashing into his ribs. His back felt like he had slammed into a brick wall, but he hadn't actually moved anywhere.

Her golden scales glimmered from an inch in front of him, her fist buried in his chest. She'd punched him into something solid, but he was sure he hadn't been standing against anything. His eyes widened and he coughed up a mouthful of blood, turning his head inch by agonizing inch to see what was behind. Her tail. She'd wrapped her tail around his back to keep him from flying away. His madra stuttered as he tried and failed to take a breath. Light rippled around her feet: the Enforcer technique that she'd used to shorten the distance. Reptilian teeth flashed as she smiled. One of her hands snaked around his waist and seized the gem, pulling it out. It glinted blue in the dim light. "You could have handed it to me, you know," she told him. Despair clutched his heart as he was reminded of a simple truth: most people who chased tigers ended up killed by tigers. For a moment, he'd forgotten. With a speed that looked like a blur, her tail withdrew and slapped him across the top of the head. Lindon slammed into the ground in an explosion of sand. His memory blurred, and his world turned to sand and darkness. He woke when a clawed foot kicked him in the cracked ribs. It wasn't fueled by an Enforcer technique, or he would have exploded like a sack of blood, but it still caused him to scream in pain and curl up around his knees. "What is this?" she demanded. He looked up through teary eyes to see her tossing the dull sapphire next to his head. "It's dead. Is this a fake?" Through the haze of pain, Lindon couldn't understand what she was asking him. But he still flailed with one hand until it closed around the sapphire, pulling it back into his pocket. She didn't stop him, but the air around her grew hot. She drew back for another kick, and Lindon flinched. A bar of black dragon's breath tore through the air, blasting at Ekeri's chest. She slid out of the way, ducking with the boneless agility of a serpent. She glared in the direction of the technique, hissing through her teeth. Orthos, surrounded by a Burning Cloak, came to a halt next to Lindon in a spray of sand. He was panting heavily, his spirit a mask of pain, and the crack in his shell vented red light.

A liquid, golden whip spooled out from Ekeri's hand. "Stay still. Answer my questions, and I will spare you all." Orthos didn't say a word. He bit down on Lindon's outer robe. Lindon reached out with both hands, grabbing the tail of the fish. His thoughts were fuzzy, but he still knew he couldn't leave empty-handed. He Enforced himself as best he could with his remaining madra, but he ended up doing little but holding on for his life as Orthos kicked his way over to the tunnel. "Ghost!" the turtle said through clenched teeth. Dross, a floating ball of purple light, zipped over to the keyhole. A flash, and the stone wall melted. Golden light bloomed as a Striker technique shot at Lindon, but Orthos slid sideways. He grunted as he took it on his shell, but kept running. A second later, they were through the wall, and Dross was closing it behind them. "Let's look on the bright side," the construct said. "We have most of a fish. And we've learned so much. An educational opportunity, that's what that was." Lindon and Orthos lay on the stone, panting and groaning. Painfully, Lindon inched his neck over to the side to see the fish he'd grabbed. Half of it was gone. He held a chunk of silver-scaled meat on the end of a wiry tail. He spoke around his cracked ribs. "We need a new plan," he said. ~~~ Ekeri stood watching the stone, tapping her claws together and thinking. There had been a construct in that gem yesterday. Today, it had escaped its vessel and opened the door independently. Meaning it could operate on instructions and had a measure of control over Ghostwater. Even more interesting, they had evidently known she was here. The Lowgold had come out wrapped in a veil, and hadn't retreated at the sight of her shelter or shown any surprise at her attack. Was the construct spying on her? Or could they send their spiritual perception out from the tunnels, even though she couldn't send hers in? Most importantly of all, they didn't have another way out of the tunnel. Otherwise they would never have fought in and out of this entrance,

knowing she was here. Together, this convinced her that she was right. That construct was the key to Ghostwater—if she could take it for herself, it would lead her to greater treasure than anyone else. She might leave this world stronger than Akura Harmony. And she could have it. The black dragon-spawn was dying, and the Lowgold wasn't worth mentioning. They had risked her wrath for the sake of food, which meant they had no provisions in there. So they would be coming out of this door. Soon. And she was in no hurry. ~~~ Lindon didn't sleep. Instead, he drank from the Dream Well. The world sharpened, which in turn drew his attention to his robust catalogue of aches and wounds. He was covered in cuts and burns, his madra channels still gave him sharp pain, and his ribs were definitely cracked. He'd even coughed up blood, and his Bloodforged Iron body was concentrating his madra on healing internal injuries in his chest and stomach. "Oooh, that looks painful," Dross said, from back in his seat in the jewel. "I'm sure you're looking for a way to restore your spirit, eh? Of course you are, every sacred artist is. Lucky for you, I have the perfect solution!" Every time he left his vessel, he lost a little essence, but thanks to what he'd taken from the other information constructs in the storage room, he shouldn't be in any immediate danger. "There is a Spirit Well," the construct continued. "Oh, it's beautiful: blue as a summer sky. So I'm told. I've never seen it myself, and for that matter, I've never seen the sky either. Or summer. Anyway, it promotes growth in the soul, stimulating recovery and increasing madra density. That was another reward for the workers: a glass or two could take a Highgold to the brink of advancement. Quite a coveted bonus, I can tell you, and I'm sure it's been piling up just like the Dream Well. This is an opportunity not worth missing, I can assure you." Lindon pushed himself up to a sitting position, leaning against the wall. "Where?"

"Ah, that would be in the tablet library. It's where the dream artists pursued their project: they thought that they could condense a type of mental madra that, when focused on the brain, increased performance." "It didn't work?" "In small doses, it worked like a charm. In less-small doses, it drove all test subjects violently insane." "And how do we get there?" A brief violet light flashed, pointing straight out the door. "It's roughly five hundred yards in that direction." Right through Ekeri. Of course. In any case, if he wanted to recover, he needed to keep his strength up. Lindon looked to his fish. He would love to start a fire—not only would he prefer to cook his fish, but he needed something to generate Blackflame aura. If he simply waited on his soul to recover madra naturally, it would take weeks to refill his core, and that would be without refining or adding to his power in all that time. But he wasn't sure he was capable of rising to his feet. Instead, he used his Remnant arm to peel the skin and scales away from a stretch of pale blue-white flesh. Ripping off a stretch of meat, he popped it into his mouth raw. It exploded with flavor in his mouth, a sweet but metallic taste. It wasn't unpleasant, but it was intense. He almost spat it out in surprise. The meat was tender, melting like butter on his tongue, and he swallowed it without having to chew. He gasped with relief after swallowing, reaching for a flask of Dream Well water to wash it down. "That has quite a taste to it," he said. Orthos cracked one eye. "Bad?" "It's...a lot." His right arm flopped to the ground instead of grabbing the nearest water vial. With an inward sigh, he reached out with his left arm. When that didn't follow his directions either, he knew something was wrong. Little Blue, who had been curled up on the floor nearby, piped a questioning note. "Orshoth," he mumbled, "shere's shumfing..." Heat crawled out from his stomach and slid through his blood. Sparks of lightning danced inside him, and his muscles started to tremble. A moment later, they began to dance.

His eyes rolled up into his head as he felt his body shake against the stone. Poison, he realized. He'd been poisoned. That was exactly what the Bloodforged Iron body was meant for, but he'd used up all but a fraction of his madra fighting Ekeri. He could feel it draining his spirit, but once he was dry, he'd be helpless. "Cycle it!" Orthos demanded. "Take control!" Cycle it? Lindon wondered. The heat from the fish wasn't traveling through his madra channels, but through his bloodstream. He tried anyway, forcing his lungs to inflate and focusing on the warm, crackling energy. He pushed out a breath, and the energy moved through his body a little more. It was like trying to push a millstone uphill one inch at a time, but he stuck with it one breath at a time. As he did, he noticed something: he wasn't running out of madra. His Iron body should have been pulling from his spirit to heal him, but instead, it was feeding on the power from the sacred beast's meat. Now he focused on the cycling process eagerly. Some time later, he lay on his back, staring up at the blue lights of the ceiling, breathing slow and even. His Bloodforged Iron body had seized on the last of the fish's energy, dispersing it through his limbs. Even his Remnant arm fed on it with relish. Lindon sat up. His ribs were still tender, his spirit still aching, and his cores as empty as ever...but much of the pain had vanished. Not only that, but his arms and legs felt tense, and somehow lighter than usual. "...was I poisoned?" Lindon asked. Orthos took a huge bite out of the fish, tearing away half the remaining flesh and raising his head up so it fell down his gullet. Lindon could see the lump of meat sliding through his throat. The huge turtle let out a breath of satisfaction a moment later, shaking himself like a wet dog. "Now that is meat fit for a dragon." He eyed the remaining chunk of fish tail. Extending one nail, he slid off a hand-sized piece and slapped it skin-down on the ground next to Lindon. "Make that last," he said. Then he snapped up the rest of the tail, bones and scales crunching between his jaws.

"You know, I've thought of something that you might have wanted to know a few minutes ago," Dross said, his gem flashing. "It's not too big of a deal. Hardly worth mentioning, really. But those fish? They're called Silverfang Carp, and they are not meant to be eaten by humans. They were raised here like cattle, you know, to feed some of the, ah, larger specimens of Ghostwater." Lindon felt a sick feeling in his gut. He hoped it was his nerves and not some sort of horrifying parasite. "Their meat promotes physical vitality and muscle growth," Dross went on. "So it's not as though it's unhealthy! The opposite, really. So you see, good for you! And you survived, so...no harm done!" Orthos belched so loudly the floor shook. "I haven't had a meal like that in decades. The Arelius family could not afford meat of that quality. You're lucky; this is the sort of food the Emperor eats." "He probably has his cooked," Dross pointed out. "So Overlords can eat this safely?" Lindon asked. "Underlords and above have their bodies reforged by soulfire," Orthos rumbled. "Something of this level is no problem for them, but it also doesn't provide as much of a benefit. The earlier you start eating like this, the better it is for you. If you did nothing but gorge yourself on those Carp for the next month or two, you'd have the strength of a lion and the endurance of an ox." He barked out a laugh. "Maybe soon, I can stop calling you human." Dross added, "That is, if you survived. And if there were no crippling deformities caused by uncontrollable growth of your muscles and organs. Which, none so far so...yay! Let's all celebrate and not, you know, cast blame on anyone who didn't warn you." Lindon hurriedly scanned himself with his spiritual perception. If anything, he seemed to be healthier than before his fight with Ekeri. A quick glance through his Copper sight showed that the line of green life aura running down his spine was brighter than ever, and the blood aura in his body was rich and dense. He was no healer, but he imagined that was a good thing. Mentally, Lindon thanked Eithan for leading him to the Bloodforged Iron body. If the Underlord had done nothing else for Lindon, that favor alone would have deserved Lindon's gratitude. He started eyeing the remaining piece of Silverfang Carp meat. He wasn't exactly eager to go through that process again, but...

"I couldn't match her," he said. "Physically, at least, she was stronger than Jai Long." Orthos coughed up a laugh. "She is a dragon." He seemed in much better spirits now, after a meal; Lindon hoped the fish would give him the strength to heal his wounds. "And she eats like this?" "Gold dragons eat meat of this quality from the moment they hatch." He bunched his shoulders in his version of a shrug. "By now, she will have reached her limit. Her body can be improved no further, while you have room to grow." With his right hand, Lindon skinned the meat, tossing the skin and scales to Orthos. Then he crammed the remaining fistful of Carp into his mouth. When he recovered, he could stand. Shakily. He hobbled down to the lower level and withdrew everything flammable he could find, piling it together. Orthos lit it on fire, and Dross activated vents in the ceiling that drew away the smoke. At first, Lindon was concerned that the smoke would be visible to Ekeri outside. But she already knew they were in here, so what harm could that do? The fire consuming the fuel released destruction aura, and the blazing flames generated fire aura. It was out of balance—there was far more fire aura here than destruction, and all of it was muted and suppressed by the overwhelming power of water—but there was enough for Lindon to cycle. At Orthos' instruction, he simply drew the aura in and converted it to madra. He spent very little time cycling it for advancement or operating the Heaven and Earth Purification Wheel to push for a deeper core. This basic aura cycling technique of the Path of Black Flame wasn't anything fancy, Orthos told him, but it was better for recovery than the Purification Wheel. "Purification Wheel?" Dross asked. "That sounds intriguing. Is that your cycling technique?" Lindon didn't answer him. Eithan had emphasized that others might kill him in the hopes of pulling his cycling technique from his Remnant, so he tried to draw as little attention to it as possible. Not that he expected Dross to be spreading rumors, but it was better to be safe. In three days, during which they had nothing else left to eat, Lindon had refilled his Blackflame core and begun to train. At first, he worried every

hour that the world would disappear suddenly, taking him with it. But it was supposed to last for a few more months…and besides, it wasn't as though he knew how to escape. The fastest way out was to train. No one slept—Dross and Little Blue didn't need to, and Orthos and Lindon were sustained by the Dream Well water. Which was the only thing they had to drink. "A Path is designed for one purpose," Orthos growled at him. "You must learn to see that purpose." The turtle's mental state had been improved by the Dream Well water, so he hardly lost himself anymore, but his spirit was still scarred. Physically, he'd recovered enough to limp around the hallway, but he rarely moved more than that. He didn't cycle either. There wasn't enough aura to sustain them both, so Orthos left it to Lindon. "What is the strength of the Path of Black Flame?" Orthos asked, locking red-and-black eyes onto him. "Overwhelming power," Lindon said. He had heard Orthos talk about this often enough to know what answer he wanted to hear. The sacred beast grumbled, dissatisfied. "But why? What does that accomplish?" Lindon thought for a moment before he answered. This reminded him of discussions he'd had with Yerin. "Pressure," he said. When he trained against Yerin, it felt as though he was always on the back foot, so that he couldn't launch an attack without losing a hand. Orthos grunted approval, snapping up a mouthful of rusted metal. Lindon was starting to wish he could digest old iron as well; it had been three days since his last taste of food. "When your opponent defends, he is not attacking. And the first mistake he makes will be his last. Now, Ekerinatoth's Path of the Flowing Flame. What is its strength?" Lindon took another vial of purple water and his thoughts sharpened. He concentrated on that memory of their fight, as the dragon-girl flowed like a coiling snake around his attack. She used whips, and her Striker technique curled like a stream. "Flexibility," Lindon said. "Adaptability." "The usual strength of water artists," Orthos said, a touch of scorn in his voice. "They will avoid or redirect your attacks, and use that moment to

attack. How do you maintain pressure on such an opponent?" Ekeri's movements were clear in Lindon's Dream Well-enhanced memories. "She becomes predictable," he realized aloud. When he left a gap, he could count on her taking it. Meaning he could see where she would attack him. "I can anticipate her." "Show me," Orthos said. And he rushed at Lindon. Two days of constant, sleepless training later, Lindon left the cave again. Thanks to the water, Lindon felt as though it had been much longer. He was able to train for twice as long as before—when his body or spirit couldn't recover, he instead discussed strategy and theory until he was ready to move again. And what training he had was twice as effective, because he was always ready to give it his full concentration. The level of water in the well had now shrunk significantly. Orthos' thirst was not to be underestimated, and the water was only replaced by a few drops a day. Lindon was already wondering if there was some way to take the well with them when they left, or at least recreate it outside. He snuck out of the cave under a veil with no complications, and the Silverfang Carp died easily under his Remnant fist. His body felt lighter and stronger than ever, after digesting the power of the sacred beast meat from before. This one had only managed to scream once before he crushed its skull, then shredded its Remnant. He had barely recovered any pure madra over the last several days—he hadn't realized how much he'd relied on Eithan's elixirs to refill his pure core. As a result, he'd only been able to make one low-quality scale for Little Blue. She hadn't been able to use any madra, so Orthos' spirit was growing worse and worse. Even if he managed to bring back this whole Carp, they couldn't stay in the tunnels forever. Fortunately, his Blackflame core was in top condition. He made it all the way back to the tunnel and opened the door, tossing the fish inside, before Ekeri showed herself. His perception caught her descending like a meteor from the rock tower overhead. She blazed with power, aiming for him while he still held Dross in the keyhole. Lindon released the Eye of the Deep and ignited the Burning Cloak. He struck overhead, launching a punch along with a pulse of Blackflame madra above him. It wasn't a true dragon's breath, but it should at least singe her.

She was falling headfirst, her eyes blazing gold, her teeth bared. She slapped his punch aside with one claw, the other sweeping at his head. Lindon caught it. His Remnant arm seized on her wrist. His strength couldn't compare to hers—not only was she a Truegold, she was a dragon. But he had gravity on his side. With all his strength, he hauled her down. She twisted in his grip, slamming into the ground braced on her feet and tail. Sand blasted away in a ring. Lindon had already triggered his arm. Intense heat flowed into his limb along with a flow of orange madra, sending spiritual pain shuddering through him. He gritted his teeth and continued even as she pulled back, trying to break his grip. She snarled, turning, whipping her tail at him. He had to release her and jump back before her tail lashed him in the chest. Without missing a beat, he vented the madra in his arm. Her own molten madra sprayed at her from only a few feet away, causing her to raise one gold hand to protect her face. Seizing Dross again, Lindon dove through the gap and slammed the door shut. ~~~ Ekeri's rage burned so hot that the nearby aura ignited. Even through the overwhelming power of water, the edges of the nearby stalks began to smolder and release smoke. The distant fish shrieked, but Ekeri wished they would close on her. She needed something to vent her frustration. The other Truegolds would have moved on to other habitats by now, or to the wreckage of those that had collapsed. They would be reaping a rich harvest. And here she was, clawing at a treasure chest that remained stubbornly locked. No longer. Raising her hand to her chest, she activated one of her necklaces: a chain of silver with a single thumbnail-sized bell on the end. The bell rang once. No matter how far away her attendants were, they would hear it and return. The next time that door opened, they would kill everything inside. ~~~

Lindon leaned his head against the wall of the tunnel, his arms trembling. Blocking the Truegold's attack directly had cracked bones in his left wrist, which his Iron body rushed to repair, and fractures had appeared in the madra of his right arm. He patched them over with pure madra, though he'd have to perform real maintenance with hunger madra when he left. Even that brief exchange with Ekeri left him strained and bruised, but it also left him grinning like Eithan. He had traded blows with her and come out ahead. Orthos had already torn the head off the Silverfang Carp, and was crunching happily through its skull. "I hope you've prepared yourself," Orthos said through a mouthful of food. Lindon nodded to the door. "I know. She won't let me walk away next time." The turtle grunted. "No. Next time, you won't let her walk away." Over the next few days, the fish became easier for Lindon to digest. It still kicked him like a horse, but it took him less time to process the energy, and he started to see a clear improvement in his body. Every time he cycled more of the sacred beast's power was another round of tempering everything from his bones to his skin. Orthos was clearly seeing the benefits too. He moved more easily than Lindon had ever seen him outside a fight, and even the fissure in his shell had started to close. Mentally, he reported feeling clearer than he had in years, so his mood was bright. Relatively speaking. However, his soul was still damaged and weak. He couldn't use a single technique without treatment, which Little Blue was in no shape to give him. Lindon's pure core recovered at a snail's pace without help. Every day, Lindon ate as much of the Carp as he could and trained Blackflame under Orthos' supervision. "You have been practicing a broken Path," Orthos told him. "How many techniques were taught in the Blackflame Trials?" "Three," Lindon said. He knew where this was going, but he had no choice but to humor the sacred beast. "And how many have you been using?" "Two." "All Blackflame artists mastered those three, and incorporated them into their fighting styles. Most of them developed at least four. When you have

greater insight into the use of your Path, you usually create other techniques to sharpen your strengths and cover your weaknesses. This is how you form a Path," Orthos said, nodding at the wooden chest of Lindon's belongings. Lindon was surprised to see him allude to the Path of Twin Stars. He often seemed to ignore Lindon's pure core entirely. "You look at the purpose of your Path and you cultivate techniques to accomplish that purpose. You do not neglect one-third of your abilities because the other two-thirds seem easier to practice." Lindon had ignored Twin Stars for too long. The Empty Palm was the only real technique in his Path; the Heart of Twin Stars had no practical use in battle. What else did he need? Some way to close the gap with his opponent in order to land an Empty Palm, certainly. He was relying on the Burning Cloak for that so far, which meant he needed to switch cores too often. Orthos thumped on the floor, sending a slap echoing through the hall. "You've taken the wrong point, I can see it in your eyes. Stop thinking and listen to me: we're going to practice the Void Dragon's Dance." This wasn't the first time Lindon had heard this argument. While preparing to fight Jai Long, Orthos had argued that Lindon needed to master the Dance. But because their practice grounds had been both small and devoid of much fire aura, and because Eithan insisted that the duel would occur in a place with very little fire aura, they had abandoned the idea. As a result, Lindon had never used it in a real battle. And rarely in practice; in his opinion, the technique seemed too large and unwieldy to use in an actual fight. It seemed like the sort of thing you'd want if you were burning down a forest or attacking a village. He and Orthos gathered all the flammable trash in the hallway and spread it all around the huge, empty warehouse room that Lindon had found before. They intended to train both the Dance and his other clear weakness: it took him too long to form his dragon's breath. They had made great progress on that before Jai Long, too, but they had never reached a point that satisfied Lindon. The fires they ignited while training served as sources of aura for Lindon to cycle. A natural fire generated more fire aura than destruction aura, so Lindon's advancement was much slower than it had been in the Blackflame training grounds of Serpent's Grave, but it was enough to keep

his core full for training. As long as they rationed themselves; they only had a limited amount of garbage in the hall. With piles of trash as targets, water from the Dream Well to support him, and Orthos watching, Lindon dove into focused training. Cycling aura, processing fish meat, practicing dragon's breath, and learning the Void Dragon's Dance swallowed every day and every night. All his sleep was replaced by the Dream Well. He lasted two weeks. That was as much time as they could afford. By the end of it, Little Blue was listless, thin, and pale. Even Dross—who assured him that Ghostwater was intact enough to last a few more months—had retreated into his gem to try and minimize madra loss. Though Lindon still rinsed out his madra channels with pure madra while training, the damage from the Path of Black Flame was adding up. His channels were scarred, and his Bloodforged Iron body was taking longer and longer to heal him after he channeled Blackflame for too long. He had to get out and find a way to refill his pure core. None of them could stay here any longer. Dross needed a better vessel, Little Blue needed food, and Orthos needed her treatment. They had finished the Silverfang Carp almost a week before, and if Lindon waited any longer, his condition would only get worse. He stood behind the door, Dross' gem in his hand, steadying his breathing to smooth out the flow of his spirit. Ekeri would come at him with everything she had. She wouldn't be trying to persuade or rob him, but to kill him. Orthos had assured him she would use a weapon, she would position her two Lowgold assistants to prevent him from running, and she would have no mercy. "Dross," Lindon asked, "how often do Lowgolds defeat Truegolds?" That was the question he'd avoided asking for two weeks. He had taken off Sandviper Gokren's hand while Lowgold, which meant he could certainly wound Truegolds. And he had fought Jai Long, knowing that victory was a long shot, so he should be used to this by now. But he'd lost that fight. "I wouldn't worry about it," Dross said, purple light flashing from the gem in Lindon's hand. "Just focus on doing your best. Don't think about the massively improbable odds, or what will happen if you fail. She's probably

killed scores of people stronger than you, but you can't think about that, because an instant of distraction will spell your certain death." "...gratitude," Lindon said, his breathing coming a little quicker. Orthos shoved him aside and walked around Lindon, standing between him and the door. He glared at him, eyes circles of red on darkness. "Listen to me. The black dragons were the kings of this continent. In their day, their power dwarfed the Akura family. The gold dragons were just a servant family beneath them, scraping and clawing for every scrap." He raised one leg, tapping Lindon's stomach with a claw. "That is the spirit that flows through you. She is two realms above you? Good. You need at least that much of a handicap to make it a challenge." Orthos snaked his head down and seized Dross in his jaws, then lifted the gem and pressed it to the keyhole. The door melted away, revealing the blocky structure of golden madra that was Ekeri's shelter. The turtle released Dross, turning back to Lindon. "Go out there and show her the power of a true dragon." With the Path of Black Flame flowing through him, Lindon felt his eyes warm as they turned black. He marched out without another word, not looking back as the door closed behind him. ~~~ In the blue light, Dross flashed brightly. "Wow, you really set him on fire, didn't you? He didn't look very encouraged after I talked to him, but wow, you knew exactly what strings to pull. If I had hands, I'd be applauding you right now. Picture me applauding." Orthos ignored him, settling down on the ground. The Sylvan Riverseed gave him a worried look and a peep, and he extended a paw so she could climb up and wait with him. "Now, be honest with me," Dross went on. "What do you think his odds are? He's not here, he won't hear you, I just want to know what you think. Turtle-to-gem." "He is my partner," Orthos growled. The construct talked too much. He just wanted to wait in silence. "No, sure, I understand that, but what do you think his odds really are? Ten to one? A hundred to one? Maybe just two to one?" Orthos locked his eyes on the purple-lit gem. "One hundred percent."

"...optimism! Oh, that's a good one, it really is. False courage really does wonders for keeping the spirits up." "One more word, and I will eat you."

Chapter 9 Lindon stood in front of the gold shelter with no veil, staring up at the highest window. Orange curtains hung limp in the still air. Seconds after he stepped out of the hall, the dragon's pair of servants walked out of the front door. Lindon tensed, tracing their movements, but each of the plain-looking men walked in a different direction and took up a post near the edges of the closest stalks. As expected they were there to prevent him from running. Though they felt like Lowgolds, his spiritual perception had trouble reading them. It was like trying to hold a handful of mist. At the highest window, Ekerinatoth appeared. The dragon-girl glared down at him, golden scales flashing in the light. She had traded out her layers of fanciful colored clothes for something that looked more like a sacred artist's robe of jade-colored silk. Necklaces still hung on her chest, and she carried a weapon at her side. It looked like a long, thumb-thick needle with a sword's hilt. Lindon looked up at her, focusing his perception on her, afraid to miss a single movement. She stood watching him. Then she fully unveiled her spirit. To his eyes, nothing changed, but his soul trembled. A faint weight pressed down on him, and she felt like a wildfire raging toward him. The Blackflame madra in him was nothing but a candle before a hearth. She dwarfed him. Lindon gathered his madra together anyway and ignited the Burning Cloak. Orthos' words bolstered him: this was just a handicap. And this time, he wasn't trying to sneak past her. He kicked off the ground, launching himself up to her second-story window. Even with the reflexes of a Truegold, she hesitated an instant when she saw him suddenly appear in her face, and ripples of light started running in waves from her feet as she activated her own Enforcer technique.

Lindon's fist almost caught her, but she twisted enough to avoid the impact. She slammed into her own wall, leaving a web of cracks. Black dragon's breath followed from Lindon's hand an instant later. She slipped beneath, and the bar of dark fire punched a hole in the wall. He wrenched the technique to the side, following her, the beam carving a long gouge in her shelter. Orange-gold essence drifted up in sparks like the rising dawn. She flowed up to him, pulling her weapon from her side, but he dropped his dragon's breath and closed the gap with the Burning Cloak. He knocked her wrist aside with his left hand, and this time his bones didn't crack. Days and nights of pain, cycling the energy of the sacred fish, had forged his body anew. Before she brought her weapon to bear, he grabbed her shoulder in his pale right hand and began to consume her madra. She slashed at his Remnant arm with her needle, forcing him to let go, creating a step of distance between them. Then she thrust a claw forward. Orange light burst from it like a waterfall of blazing heat. It was far more raw power than he could conjure in an instant. The beam was as wide as his torso, and while it wasn't as focused or as destructive as Blackflame, its raw power overshadowed anything he could produce. Lindon held out his white hand. He and Orthos had tested this as much as they could without risking Lindon's life, and it should work in theory. But there was every chance that the Flowing Flame madra would pass over him like a tide and leave him helpless. As the Striker technique hit his palm, he triggered the hunger binding. Unleashed, his arm started devouring the technique. It reached its capacity almost immediately, and orange lines began to stain the limb, searing Lindon's soul and filling his arm like a sack stuffed to bursting. But he'd consumed the technique. Without giving Ekeri an instant to recover, Lindon held his white arm out as though holding a shield. Flowing Flame madra gushed out of his forearm. It wasn't as focused as her original technique, and it had lost much of its potency, but she still had to cross her arms and bear it. Liquid fire splashed out of the holes in the house.

Cutting off the technique, Lindon launched himself forward with the power of the Burning Cloak. He hit Ekeri foot-first, stomping her back. For once, he landed a clean hit. Whether she thought she could endure the blow or just failed to dodge, she took the kick on her crossed arms. And she blasted back through the wall of her shelter, hitting the sand like a falling star. Lindon dashed after her while she was still in the air, the corona of the Burning Cloak turning him into a black meteor. He landed in front of her, sending wide, sweeping slashes of dragon's breath scything into the waving sea-stalks around her. Stalks toppled, smoldering and smoking, but because of the water aura, none of them burst into flames. Shrieks rose in a chorus from all over the habitat. He sensed cold, savage power approaching from every direction as the Silverfang Carp closed on them. A great roar echoed over the sand as Ekeri's shelter collapsed. The blocks tumbled to the ground as though they were made out of real stone, a great puff of essence rose into the sky like dust. At last, flames licked up from the wreckage as bits of smashed wooden furniture caught fire. That was one of Lindon's worries eased. But she had been waiting too. The fire aura from around the flame gathered behind him, flames pulling themselves into a river. He sensed it happen, whirling to face the Ruler technique she was conjuring behind his back. It was like staring down a dragon made of orange flame. He extended his own madra to the aura, contesting her control, but he felt like a child throwing his whole body weight against the arm of a warrior. The snake of fire washed over him, instantly igniting the edges of his clothes. If not for him using fire aura to push the fire away, and the water aura weakening flames, his robes would have burned away entirely. Still, fighting against her Ruler technique took everything he had. His soul blazed, his Blackflame madra rolling like a whirlpool, and his teeth were gritted as he threw his whole concentration into it. With his right hand, he fumbled at his pocket. The hand ignored him. Not now, Lindon begged. Please, not now.

The hand lurched in Ekeri's direction. Lindon split his attention, and the fire pressed closer, searing his skin. He screamed, but forced his hand to listen to him. It reached into his pocket and withdrew a sealed vial of baked clay. He broke the seal with his thumb, dumping glowing purple water into his mouth. Instantly, his concentration sharpened. His vision cleared, and his control over the aura firmed. His training with Orthos had showed them both that reaction speed and focus were both noticeably improved under the effects of the Dream Well. But his newly enhanced reactions weren't enough to stop the golden tail from catching him across the chest. He flew back, tumbling across the sand, trying to scramble to his feet. Fear spiked in his chest. He only had one chance of winning: keeping Ekeri on the defensive. Orthos had lectured him at length, but it was a principle he'd learned from Yerin. The strength of an offensive Path, like the Path of Black Flame, was its ability to put pressure on the opponent. Without that pressure, he would crumble like a dry leaf. And now she had him on the back foot. With the power of the Burning Cloak, he ran, trying to put some distance between them. She followed him as though tied to him with a string, holding out the needle in her hand. A long string of orange madra extended from the end, and Lindon recognized it for what it was. Not a needle, but a whip. This would be a tool to enhance the whip-like Forger technique she'd used before. She spun it over her head, and the line of flexible madra spun in all directions, slicing stalks open. The aura around them was mixed with spots of visible red, as fires started to ignite, and the air was beginning to choke with smoke. The screams of the fish grew closer as Lindon ducked and dipped through the stalks and the occasional boulder, trying to increase the gap between them. A man in white appeared out of nowhere in front of him, sending a kick at his feet. Lindon leaped over him, driving his fist at the servant's face, but he ducked his head slightly to one side. Lindon followed up with a kick, but the servant moved back a step.

Lindon's gut clenched. The man wasn't trying to fight him, just to tie him up until Ekeri reached him. Though he didn't want to waste the madra, he gathered black fire in his left palm. Silver flashed from within the smoke, and a Silverfang Carp came for him with fangs open. Lindon seized the fangs with his Remnant arm. After feeding on their meat for so long, Lindon could hold it back much more easily than before; even his replacement arm had been strengthened by the power in their flesh. However, it was still massive. As it swam through the air, it pushed him back through the sand. A burst of pain exploded next to his shoulder blade, and he screamed, hauling the fish with him as he twisted to see what had hit him. The servant stepped back, bloody knife in hand. Rage flowed from his Blackflame core. Still gripping the massive Carp, Lindon extended his hand of flesh and fired his dragon's breath. Ekeri leaped over her servant at the same time. If she wanted to save him, she would have to land and take his Striker technique, which would give him time to push away the fish. His Bloodforged Iron body had already started to drain madra to heal the wound in his back, so he needed to end this quickly. But the dragon-girl ignored his technique. The bar of fire punched into the Lowgold's side, instantly taking a chunk out of his ribs and igniting his clothes. His body bucked, and the wound flashed with green light—he must have had a treasure to preserve his life. It wouldn't be enough. Three more Carp darted over, descending on him. Then Lindon could no longer pay attention to the Lowgold, because there was a Truegold on top of him. She whirled her whip at him, and as he struggled to cut off the flow of his dragon's breath, the glowing orange weapon wrapped around his leg. It seared like red-hot metal against his skin, and Lindon knew with rocksolid conviction that it was about to tighten and tear his limb away. Instead of cutting off his dragon's breath, he poured more madra into it, slicing down like a burning executioner's blade onto her head. Before she could cut his leg away, she had to raise a hand to defend against the dense bar of Blackflame. With her attention distracted, he kicked the weapon away.

As the whip slid back down his skin, it burned him, and he choked back a scream. He wrenched his leg free, stumbling back. The Silverfang Carp had truly gathered now, flashing everywhere, so he and Ekeri fought in the middle of a school. The air was so hazy that it looked like they were swimming through smoke. With the Burning Cloak active, he knocked them to one side and the other, leaping and kicking off of a fish that hovered in the air. He looked down, seeing the sliced and broken sea-stalks smoldering on the sand. And, as he watched, they burst into open flame. Until that point, the greatest source of fire aura had been the furniture in the wreckage of Ekeri's shelter. That generated enough red-hot aura to fuel her Ruler technique. But the Void Dragon's Dance also required destruction. The more the fire consumed, the more destruction aura it released along with the heat. Now, there was enough for him to work with. Extending his spirit, he gathered threads of black and red energy, controlling it with his madra, wrapping it together, coiling it around himself. The air rippled with heat, his skin tingled, and the edges of his robes started to dissolve as though under the effect of invisible flames. Holding her larger whip in one hand and a Forged whip in the other, Ekeri rushed after him. She leaped, grabbing onto one Carp with her tail and swinging over a second, snapping sacred beast. She kicked off another, slapped the next in two, and came down on him with both whips descending. All the while, fires dimmed nearby as she gathered fire aura to defend herself. He was almost out of madra. He couldn't compete with her in endurance, in physical strength, or in technique. The longer this battle went on, the more options he'd lose. She'd undoubtedly survived more battles than he had. She'd read his Ruler attack the second he started preparing it, gathering up aura to prepare a defense. By the time Lindon played his last card, she'd still have a full hand. But, as Orthos had taught him, the Path of Black Flame had some good cards. When the red and black vital aura had been wrapped together in roughly equal measure, Lindon braided it according to the Ruler technique he'd

learned almost a year before. He turned and faced Ekeri's whips. His left hand flowed with the power necessary to control the Void Dragon's Dance, so he couldn't move it, but his Remnant arm reached out and seized a nearby fish. He dragged it in front of him, using its body to shield him from her attack. Before it hit, he pushed his left arm forward. With it, he pushed out the tightly coiled aura. It wrestled against his madra, trying to spring free, and his arm and spirit trembled. Golden light sliced the Silverfang Carp in half, and the second whip descended. He raised his right hand to catch it, though it burned his Remnant palm with a piercing pain that shot through his spirit. At the same time, visible only in his Copper sight, a tightly wound disc of red-and-black aura reached Ekeri. She pushed against the fire aura with her own spirit, and in only a moment she would unravel the technique. Instead, Lindon clenched his left fist. And unleashed the Void Dragon's Dance. The aura exploded into a cyclone of spinning flame. It stretched from the ground to the ceiling of the dome, and the heat scorched his face. The column of swirling black-and-red fire swallowed Ekeri, then the Carp around her were consumed, followed by those farther away as the technique grew larger and larger. But this was not just a fire technique. Empowered by destruction aura, the flames devoured material in a blink. What would normally take hours for the fire to burn instead disappeared instantly. Every Silverfang Carp touched by the flame was consumed in a snap, becoming little more than ash that drifted down. Lindon projected Blackflame madra around himself as the technique expanded, but the Void Dragon's Dance was over in only a second. All of the nearby fish, the remaining stalks, and the yellow-glowing plants had been completely destroyed in a circle around him. Losing the lights left him in shadow, but he couldn't feel the attendants anymore either. Everything within a hundred yards had vanished, leaving Lindon in a world of sand and ash. Except for one other survivor. A dragon could not be so easily burned. Though he had hoped.

Ekeri was only singed, her clothes damaged and smoking, her scales charred. She knelt on one knee with whips crossed before her, spirit trembling. As the ash cleared, her eyes snapped open. They blazed gold. He braced his knees to keep from collapsing. There were only a few scraps of madra left in his Blackflame core, but he released a quick, sloppy dragon's breath to keep her at bay. It didn't help. Enforcer technique rippling around her legs, she flowed around his attack, letting her Forged whip vanish in order to strike with her weapon. He ducked it, but she was clearly prepared for him. Her tail slipped around behind him, locking him into place. Then her clawed hand struck for his chest. Lindon was past the scope of his plan. They had practiced for everything they could, but no fight could be fully anticipated. At some point, he had to lean on his experience and training. He only had enough Blackflame madra for one more technique, so he let it go. And took the hit. Her claws pierced his chest around his gold badge. They plunged through his skin, sending blood flowing down his stomach. The pain tore at his consciousness, but he hadn't accepted the hit by accident. If she wasn't this close, so close that he could smell the ash on her skin, he would never have been able to hit her himself. So he shoved his Empty Palm into her core. Her Enforcer technique vanished and her whip went dark, reverting to nothing more than a needle-pointed silver hilt. Gold eyes widened, and her reptilian lips parted. Heat crept back into Lindon's eyes as he pulled Blackflame for one last time. The dragon's breath was only the width of two fingers, but it drilled straight through her heart. Severed, her necklaces fell to the ground, leaving loose pearls and chunks of jade and links of gold chain tumbling over the sand. Lindon shoved her away, stumbling backwards, trying to conjure up enough madra for a Burning Cloak. He should have gone for her head. Now he had given her enough room to recover. She would be coming for him any second, but he couldn't scrape any more power together.

A full breath of time passed before he realized she wasn't coming after him. Instead, she dropped to her knees, scrambling in the sand for her jewelry. Blood leaked from her lips, and she wheezed as though trying to speak, but she ended up coughing blood over the ground instead. Lindon limped forward. His right arm wasn't obeying him, but he had to try something. If he left her alive... Her hand closed over a tiny jade rectangle. With one last frightened glance at him, she broke it. The air shattered. Lindon held his hands up to defend himself from this new attack, but all the weight on his spirit had vanished. Before him, where Ekeri had knelt before, there was an intricate spiderweb of cracks in the air. He swept his spiritual perception through them, but they didn't feel like madra. They felt like nothing, like they were splintered cracks in existence itself. He did feel something from beneath the web: one or more of those necklaces was releasing an aura like a Truegold weapon. Though every movement sent agony shooting through his whole body, he slowly knelt and slipped his Remnant hand beneath the cracks, reaching for the necklaces. If they ended up being dangerous, at least he would only lose the same arm. The pointed tips of his fingers caught on one string…and passed through. This time, he remembered to send pure madra flowing through the limb before he snagged the necklace, pulling the pile of jewelry free of the web and close to him. He was eager to inspect them, but ash was still falling around him, and the shrieks of distant Carp were growing closer. He could wait until he was back in the safety of the tunnel. Lindon limped back, passing piles of gray, pressing his robes to his chest to stop the bleeding. When he reached the rock leading into the tunnel, he could only stare at it blankly. He'd left Dross inside. He had to wait until they opened the door for him. With a heavy sigh, he turned to lean his back against the stone, sliding down until he was seated. Somehow, the moment of reaction made his pain so much worse, as though all his injuries were waiting for him to let his guard down before they mobbed him all at once.

That only lasted a breath before the wall behind him vanished and he tumbled backwards. When the agony cleared and he stopped groaning, he spoke. "I forgot you could see out." Dross drifted out of his gem, a cloud of shifting purple gears and swimming violet lights. "I don't see Ekeri," he said, bobbing around the entrance. "And I see the earth has been burned and salted. Who saved you?" "No one," Lindon said. He was still lying on his back, so when Orthos stepped up and looked down at him, he saw the turtle's smile upside-down. "I won," Lindon told him, and the truth of it seeped into him like warm honey. Orthos' laugh started as a distant chuckle and grew to a massive, merry rumble that shook the floor. "By the time we get out of here, the Skysworn will be asking your permission to speak." ~~~ Sopharanatoth, dragon of the gold bloodline, sipped winter-wine from a silver chalice. The wine had weak spiritual properties, but its chill was a pleasant contrast to the heat that usually flowed through her veins. And it was a thousand high-grade scales per bottle, so it was appropriate for her position. Supervising the entrance of Ghostwater was the most luxurious assignment an Underlord could receive. Especially when the primary portal had been destroyed. She and her retinue reclined in a silk tent planted on a Thousand-Mile Cloud ten thousand feet above the portal, scanning the portal every once in a while with their spirits. The destruction of the other exit had made her job easy; now they barely even bothered to sweep the exit once a day. When Sophara's little sister emerged, she would use her gatestone to leave. Which meant she would appear right here, so there was really no need to keep watch at all. The other gold dragons, Truegolds all, lounged on beds of cloud madra all around the tent, reading books, consulting dream tablets, or snacking on flaming crickets from a cage. As Truegolds, they looked as much like dragons as like humans, but Sophara's soulfire set her apart. Her face was almost entirely human, but for her eyes and the patches of scales on her cheeks. Scales had fallen away elsewhere on her body as well, leaving patches of skin on her arms and legs. She looked forward to reaching Overlord, when she would have hair, but she found the strands of loose scales tumbling down her shoulders a pleasing approximation. Some other bloodlines valued their natural forms most highly, and refused to transform even once they had the soulfire to do so. While the power of the dragon form was useful, golds had a more refined aesthetic sense than their brethren. They shared the tastes of Seshethkunaaz, Monarch of Dragons, who had lived for centuries in human form. And there was no denying that madra moved more smoothly through a human body. Sophara had emptied her chalice and was trying to decide if she wanted another when she felt a crack in her spiritual perception. In the same instant, a smoking, bleeding golden body tumbled out of nowhere onto her priceless woven rug. She had kindled a Striker technique before she recognized her little sister. Hurriedly dismissing her madra, she dropped to her knees, pulling Ekeri into her arms. The Truegold girl stared blankly at the ceiling of the tent, blood staining her lips. A weak cough sent more blood oozing from the scorched wound in her chest. "Healing!" Sophara commanded, her voice trembling. The other Truegolds shot away to obey, running out for elixirs or reaching into their personal void keys for life-saving constructs. When her perception delved into her sister's body, her hope shattered. The girl's lifeline was unraveling, green dissipating into aura, and her spirit had already started to congeal. Her Remnant was beginning to form. Ekeri met her sister's eyes. "I failed," she said. She coughed up another mouthful of blood and started again. "I failed him. I'm sorry." An instant later, she was gone. A golden serpent slithered away from her body, and Sophara stepped away, eyes closed, tears streaming down her cheeks. She couldn't look at her own sister's Remnant. She heard the Truegolds guiding the spirit away. They would use the Remnant to raise up another student, in honor of her sister, or else they would send it to the Soulsmiths to form it into a guardian treasure for their family, so Ekeri could add to the glory of the bloodline forever.

Or a weapon, to be used against the one who had killed her. Sophara snapped her eyes open, staring at the wound on her sister's chest. It was black and molten, burned so hot that there was very little blood. On someone other than a dragon, it might not have left any blood at all. The aura around the wound was black and red, braided together in a recognizable pattern. Black dragons. Not even with their bloodline all but eradicated, their authority forgotten, their descendants scattered, would the black dragons leave them alone. Sophara threw back her head, pouring all her rage and her hate into her voice. When she roared, it was the roar of a dragon. And all the golds roared with her.