Atop the Household Tower, rising above the palace in a rigid, four-sided and alabaster silhouette against the ceaseless blue of the sky. Terrianis stood before the thick railing constructed from large slabs of granite and marble fused into one through the sorcery of architects. Beyond it and the subject of his gaze, Luth-Astaril sprawled, crawled onto the two peaks, the clamoring muffled by the distance and the screaming and searing wind of Mineirvia’s challenging season. His hair danced on the back of his silken robe inlaid with golden and crimson lining out dragons in feline poses, patiently staring at the central brocade of the blazing Illius in deep gold and amber.

  Behind him, Aurelithae sat silently at the lone table carried up by the servants, placed in the center with an almost familial care.

  “Is it too strong?” He asked, his fingers snapped loudly. The air around them twinged and creased as waves traversed towards the infinite firmament and the wild hot winds ceased the battering of the two.

  “It was pleasant, but now it is better.” She said with a courteous smile, her tired eyes forcing a glimmer of relief as the current of air gently kissed her cheeks and stopped disturbing the peace of her rising collars of a vivid ruby, folding down like the wings of vigilant dragons or gargoyles.

  “Is it to your taste? We ourselves brought it on the recommendation of the fat cat merchant. Quite the unsavory fellow.” Terrianis said. The last part in a whisper as he thought back to the corpulent catkin merchant who rose up the ladder in less than a decade before The Harrowing.

  Aurelithae’s eyes widened, and reflected her curiosity in regards of this merchant, but remained silent instead. “In all honesty, it was your dear brother who recommended him during your… long sleep.” Noticing it, an urge to tell the truth came over him as he gently walked over to the chair and sat down, guiding the steam and warm liquid confined into the precious cups of his.

  “There is no need for apologies, dear father. If we have anyone to blame, it is the fickle fate that delivered such evil upon our doorstep.” Her words cut as sharp as his brother’s blade, yet it also soothed his dreadful soul and heart as it took him great effort to cease his trembling. “And the tea is excellent. Sweet enough that my lips won’t meld into one, and the fruit has a pleasantly pungent degree in the hierarchy of the tea’s flavors.” Her smile shone as bright and soothing as the Illius glazed and thawed away the icy layers of worry and dread creeping up on Terrianis. So much so that the image of their divine mother’s perfectly sculpted visage appeared before his eyes for a meager moment.

  An oppressing silence settled between the two as they sipped their teas. Terrianis wrestled with the words cutting deep into his psyche, uttered by the youngest of the Oracles. The Shadow lengthened over his mind, and now he became unsure whether Time was still on their side after centuries, if ever. Doubts manifested in his heart towards the monarch of the gray city, though from where or why, he knew not.

  “How have you been faring?” He blurted out still with the composure fit for his statute, yet his faint tremulous intonations in his voice attempted betrayal.

  The thin line of brow risen aloft on Aurelithae’s lovely visage, a streak of iridescence traversed across its arcuated stroke as she slightly tilted her head and let the fringe of tresses drape towards the center of her forehead accentuating the indistinct draconic heritage of all their kin. But once more, she remained silent, and for a moment it looked to him as if she met the gaze of another–yet he sensed no one besides them on the windy top. “I am feeling better with each day. I even resumed my training with brother Albron and even Drussaev, and once more I attend the lectures of Priscaerith with the others.” She stated with a jaunty tone, like before The Harrowing.

  “I hope they don’t over exert you.” A great effort was needed to keep her surprise from leaking out from the momentary break of his father’s usual speech pattern.

  She nearly swallowed wrong, but managed to kept her composure and looked at him with a confirming smile. “I may even say they are a bit too protective for my taste.”

  “For the time being, be careful. We are still unsure what truly happened with you and it seems there are threats still lingering in the city.” For a moment, he expected a break in her mask, but to his satisfaction, Aurelithae reacted not just simply opened the lid on the jar. From it a lone cherry floated onto her small plate and she quickly swallowed it, a soft moan escaping her as the saccharine juice burst within her mouth, splashing onto her tongue and flowed onto her buds sending a thrilling wave through her body.

  “Are they behind the supposed rumors of the Order and…” Before she could have finished whilst hovering out a thick dough with berries and bits of chocolate adorning its nearly seamlessly smooth form–blemished by deep craters where the bits and berries rested. On top of it, a wall of white, soft cream congregated with powdered sugar dreaming atop with a hat of cherries.

  “They are, but it seems strife rooted itself within our ranks too. But these are our woes, not yours. For now, just rest and hone yourself for the coming days.” As her lips curled wide, the sharp fanged teeth revealed itself and with a slow motion, shut closed after the small cake passed into the dark, clammy interior. Looking at them, the image of her mother, his 136th mate appeared and a nostalgic pain and sorrow mingled with his unruly feelings.

  *****

  Stacks of documents, reports, charters mounted atop his desk, forming lugubrious spires and towers with oppressive shadows falling onto his dreamy visage. Terrianis lacked no determination in scribing his name and the draconic herald of his lineage upon the straight line stroked on the right bottom corner of each, ink imbued with his ceaseless will waiting to imprint his orders into the myriad officials waiting for their delivery. Yet he could not avert his mind from trailing into the past, dragged by the long rope of the yoke around the queer curiosity formed by his dread.

  A dread which bore the awful scent of familiarity which annoyed him as he struggled recalling where he sensed it first. He could recall everything else, his first words uttered to his father who held him with a fearful gaze of the foiled, the conquered; the time he first experienced pain by a lone arrow penetrating his abdomen, gnawing, digging through the thick layer of scaled growth and the horror of watching his own blood taint the magnificently painted scales torn by the ivory head; the despair of holding the one you truly loved dead in your hands, staring into their vacant eyes, hoping the light of the dawn shall return to brighten them once more. And the gnawing, all-devouring frustration when one first experiences defeat shattering prideful assumptions about the self.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Frustration which he felt as he dug deep in the library of his mind, which he found in the shrinking dark blot beyond which laid the answer. The Shadow formed and swiveled, slowly taking the shape of a tall, lean figure draped in all black, layered robes fit for a ruler and a pallid silver mask bearing a listless, regal face with holes occupied by thick gloom. The stern bones in his fingers cracked loudly with the revelation, and without even noticing it, he gnashed his fanged teeth whilst the temperature risen exponentially to match his anger.

  Anger which infrequently returned, for the past few decades. There were days before, Terrianis believed when he triumphed over his father, his temperament passed with him.

  The window clicked open and the soothing wintry air entered, bringing down the heat, snuffing out the sparks stirred by his anger. He focused his mind onto that memory, and the spacious office stretched like rubber pulled and lengthened by careless hands until the dark stoned walls of The Black Pharaoh’s palace risen into its place. As he turned towards the left, the towering, stalwart form of his brother manifested, clad in the segmented, gold and silver armor with a long, black veil cascaded down from his slit visored helmet. Shadows spread beneath his feet, forming tendril snaking towards his the ever-burning heart.

  “Night may have been your ally so far, but by Dawn your tyranny over these lands shall cease and shall be devoured by the jaws of oblivion.” He trembled in shame hearing his own haughty voice echo through the grandiose hall decorated with horrid fetishes and symbols, including the winged menace of trilobed eye, a maiden in winding robes, her beauty invoking an unknown dread. And columns, walls graven with symbols from the distant realms of nightmares and terrors, evoking the whispered words of the oracle. And Terrianis felt his anger subside, yet he could not be relieved as its price nearly proved too great.

  But composing himself, Terrianis rushed through the palaces’ halls, betwixt the titanic columns, twisting with sculptures of horrid creatures whose abhorrent forms were an affront to the designs of The Almodo and Seven. Quickly he reached the steps he remembered now leading up to the sumptuous throne room built with dark and silver marble walls and floors, the runes of the Umvraothus carven upon their smooth structure, imbuing madness and oblivion to those coming with ill intent.

  As Terrianis made the last step over the precipice, he found himself not in a throne room, but within the decaying carrion of old Astaril. Its ruined palace used more for gatherings of officials and the representatives of the plebeian cast its dim shadow upon him and his father, Primuinis whose luxuriant, silken hair flown as dead winds swept through the tousled layers of the deep, rich earth brown mane. Before his gaunt, handsome face a few lighter brown tresses flocked and fluttered.

  His almond-frame eyes of many colors shifting within the slit, draconic pupils stared at the pallid skies searching for a titanic, winged form beneath which His dim shadow deprived lands of life. Primuinis burrowed his fang into his thin lips surrounded by well-groomed, lush beard. His nostrils flared as he inhaled the putrescent air permeating the decaying heart of their crumbling empire.

  “I am here in your shadow as promised!” His deep, raspy voice permeated the ruins, whilst his scaled hands–from wrists to fingers–remained on his famed blade inherited by Augermil who later lost it in the Battle of Dawn and Dusk. The blade which tasted the flesh and blood of a Higher Being.

  It seemed silence was his answer, but from the previous vision, Terrianis known they were not alone. At once all light within the now dead realm ceased as the Nightscale manifested its titanic form, spreading from the high palace, down towards the distant mountains flattened by his hind legs. All three eyes bearing the regal shades of Dusk stared down at Primuinis’s past, present and future from the long, gaunt head stretched wide, adorned with horns and spikes the sizes of great hills. From the jaw violet and indigo tinted darkness spread across the long chest, abdomen ending at the tip of the tail drawing circles in the air where distant mountains flattened beneath the weight and presence of the Night itself. Slowly the blue skies blackened, the sun scurried beneath the horizon, giving way to the moons of the old realms, bathing the blackened world in a cold, majestic silver.

  Envy seemed to calm Terrianis in a weird way, as he felt the cold presence more pronounced than before, and watched as a single nail dug into the lifeless market district, creating an aperture deeper than the pits of Luth-Astaril.

  Looking down at his father, the envy included him for being capable of standing still, not quivering in his regal panoply of golden and pure white fabrics slipping through gaps, whilst a loincloth danced to the tunes of ghastly winds.

  “You are, Son of Anessarion, but have you came willing to trade, or shall refuse knowing the price of such power and possibility?” Terrianis believed the deep voice quaked not just the whole world the two occupied, but all the Streams of Time rippled and quivered at the magnificence of it.

  A fearless smile curved upon Primuinis’s lips as he stared into two of the eyes, seeing present and future. “Aye, I no longer fear the price. I am no longer blind, can see such offers are seldom.”

  The deep laugh of the titanic primordial dragon shook Terrianis soul. “Certainly, the true power of Death, of Dusk is something not even The Almodo is willing to give.”

  “Then, may I ask, why have you offered it to me?” Primuinis made two steps towards the Blackest of Serpents, fearless in the encroaching darkness as if it was a friend of his. The question itself amused the Nightscale, whose eye witnessing the past seemed morose.

  “Ardetheimus is too lost, beyond even my reach.” The answer confounded both son and father. “And I am ashamed, I am incapable of striking down my own.” He added in a whisper carried by all currents of the winds.

  “Could this power truly slain a Deos?” Primuinis asked.

  “I can assure you, it can, Son of Anessarion.” Primuinis’s hands shook, not from terror, but excitement.

  Primuinis drew deep breaths, his plates devoid of their regal radiance in the darkness arose as his chest bulged as his lungs filled with cold air. “Do you not fear I shall use it against all of you?” The words flown unevenly as he had to muster himself to maintain his imperial attitude.

  The Nightscale’s massive form straightened, reaching into the blackness its presence forced upon the world. A storm flooded the world from the Nightscale’s laughter before he settled back onto the ruined capital, the patches of lands and the mountains afar. “No such fear ails me. If you so wish to bring forth your own doom with my gift, so be it. It shall happen then by His design.” Primuinis looked inquisitive. “Jesting asides, I would not recommend truly, even bringing down Ardetheimus shall prove costly, He may smote you down before you attempt such folly.” He spoke with a depth reaching both Primuinis and Terrianis who watched confounded still, if his enemy meant to show him all this in mockery or in a strange kindness.

  “And naught one smitten by The Almodo could enjoy the benefits of death.” The Nightscale added with a grave tone. “But enough of this somber talk, friend Primuinis. I ask one last time for your and your dream’s sake, are you willing to pay in the future of your father’s dreams?”

  Hearing those distant, yet present words Terrianis knew the Enemy shown it to sow and plough new fears within his heart. Watching his father kneel before Night, his blade steeped into the darkness under his feet and knees, place his narrow forehead upon its pommel of the searing disk that was the old Sun of their realm, in its center the eye of a dragon carven. “I am, to slain the Grim Sovereign and end his madness forever, I am willing to damn our people and their dreams of peace!”

  Wicked winds laughed at him, as he hurled across past to present. Terrianis fumed upon his throne, angered by the foolishness of his father, whilst the shadows deepened, encroached ever slowly.