Randell stared in abject horror at the scrying pane that Stefano had redirected to show the massive dragon that had torn the entire Virmo campus through space into a vast, underground cavern while 1-A hustled Kenji out of the room. The dragon’s proclamation rumbled through the building, and Randell could faintly hear the screams and cries of terror throughout the building and the sounds of glass shattering.

Oh, gods above and below, what have I done? I’ve cast us all into the abyss.

His face felt slack, and he could not summon the energy to shape it to reflect his regret. Immediately, Stefano started doing what he did best, organizing. Randell watched and listened for a moment as the man that he considered as his rival began to coordinate medical and security teams, directing them where they were most needed. Wizzlefidget and Talon began to do the same, following Stefano’s lead.

Of course. It was suddenly plain as day why Kenji had forsaken his friendship in favor of this man. It felt like a hand was tightening around Randell’s heart and lungs, crushing his chest from the inside.

He fled the room. What could he do after all? He was nothing more than a performer. A songster and storyteller who rode to glory on the coattails of a brilliant man.

Sure, Randell had taken pity on the scruffy looking man with the exotically colored skin and paid him to act as a porter; then came back to employ him again and again as his interest grew in the enigma that was the young man who spoke in tongues he’d never heard. But did that really entitle him to Kenji’s time and attention? No. He’d just been jealous and bitter that his once closest friend was drifting away to a place he couldn’t reach. Kenji had been destined for heights far beyond what a lowly tavern singer and part-time swindler like himself could ever aspire to even see. He should just be glad he was there to help Kenji begin his ascent.

Randell stopped and breathed heavily for a moment, hunched over and fighting back the emotions which blurred his sight, blinking furiously. When he looked up, he realized that his feet had carried him right to the front entryway as if they were trying to get him to run away from his failure.

No. He could not run from this. He had caused this, with his misplaced spite and worthless pride. Deep down, he already knew his life was forfeit. Everyone knew that dragons held grudges. That was as immutable a law as water being wet or fire being hot. Maybe, at the very least, he could save some few others. Maybe his inevitable death could have meaning.

Randell stood back up, his back straight and his chest puffed out. He didn’t really know what he was going to do, but it was surely going to be something stupid.

He marched out the doors, his stride strong and even. He could almost hear the accompanying instrumental as some future entertainer related this, his last, foolish stand. It’d probably be called something like Randell’s Folly. He was fine with that. As long as his actions might, in some way, preserve Kenji’s life and legacy. Maybe even save some of these poor people he had dragged into this horrendous, cataclysmic mess.

He marched through a group of scared looking people that had begun to cluster together in front of the entryway, and past them.

He threw his arms out wide, and projected with his best stage voice, “I challenge your claim!” Really, was that the best he could come up with? No eloquent rebuttal, no scathing remarks? Well, there was no taking it back now.

Randell thrust his chin upwards and glared at the enormous, crimson head as it turned its gaze to him. He thought he saw a slight glimmer in its massive eyes.

I’m sorry, Kenji.