“He is dying,” Rotgoriel said, as Agnezsharron held his head, and Midian shouted skills next to him.

“It must be Rich,” Midian said, frantic. “There’s nothing wrong on this end. No, come on, it can’t end like this! What do we do?”

“Turn me to see Konol,” Rotgoriel said through gritted teeth. His vision was going strange. “Quickly!”

“There’s one thing I can do at least,” Midian said. “Time Stop!”

It helped. The pain eased, just a bit. And Rotgoriel saw Konol staring back at them. His lips moved, but the sound didn’t carry. It was as if a vast gulf separated them.

Well.

He had a skill for that, didn’t he?

“Pray to Konol.”

The air turned misty, but here the fractures in the world seemed to trace a pattern. It was as if the walls of this tower, dusty and worn as they were, responded to it. He could almost make out animals, people, trees, villages... something like a fresco painted over many times.

“It is,” Konol said. “Each world forms its own tower.”

“How can we save you?” Rotgoriel gasped. The pain was still there, but it wasn’t spreading anymore. Midian had bought them a temporary reprieve, one that stretched across worlds, oddly.

“You cannot. My time is done. I go to join my brothers. I go to join my mother. The sands are where gods die, as the tower recedes from them. I would have been here long ago, if not for the ancestors.”

“Then what... it cannot end this way,” Rotgoriel whispered. “What can we do?”

“If you had the mirror, you could pull Rich here and save him. You would combine your souls and be a new thing. The Tower is where dreams become real. You could do much, if you tried. But... you do not have your mirror.”

Rich closed his eyes.

“Then what do we do?” Midian said, and with a start, he realized that she and Agnezsharron were listening in somehow.

“I told you,” Konol chuckled. “The tower holds up this world. Dreams are real here. The rules are... more like... guidelines.”

“There has to be some way to succeed,” Agnezsharron whispered.

Konol was silent.

“We cannot save you,” Rotgoriel said. “But we freed you.”

“The ancestors will no longer prey upon innocent worlds with me gone. No more innocents shall be lured in and devoured for the magic to fuel their way of life. Already they retreat once more to the physical plane, trading in immortality for powerful and ancient forms. But they are mortal, at least for the moment.”

“And what of the rest of us?” Agnezsharron asked.

“The well is nearly full of players,” Konol said. “Once all who remain in Generica are fully dead it will seal, and humanity and all those drawn in with them shall become the next wave of dark creatures, summonable from their well by occultists. High dragons will sustain themselves from that energy for some time, but in a few thousand years their eggs shall falter, as they did in the past, and the line will degrade until none are left. Perhaps the remaining draggits will work their way up the chain again, but that is beyond my sight.”

“The Emperor spoke of a demon dragon,” Rotgoriel asked. “What of him? Was he like me?”

“He was,” Konol admitted. “The ancestors left me a loophole to exploit. Once per world I could empower an egg. Allow a soul from the other world to infect and grow and become a dragon. With each one went my hope that they could break the cycle. And now, finally, you have. I am so very grateful, my child. So very grateful, and so very sorry that it is ending in this way.”

Rotgoriel shook his head, though it pained him. Agnezsharron shifted, supporting his neck like a human child’s. “No. I refuse. We shall not end this way.”

“If you had the mirror you could draw Richard in. Then you could rank up and form a new egg. And with his soul added to yours, you could hatch yourself, and take my place,” Konol said. “But there is no mirror, and Richard is dying.”

“I cannot rank up anyway,” Rotgoriel said, with a sigh. “I am only twenty-fourth level.”

Midian spoke up. “How far away are you?”

“What does it matter now?”

“It matters. Check your status.”

“I am praying.”

“He is not far,” Konol told her. “A few dozen of what you call experience points away. Any moderately powerful soul would push him over the edge.”

“Or a decent dungeon,” Midian said, pulling out Geebo’s egg.

The god was silent.

“Now it becomes clear!” Agnezsharron said, roaring her excitement.

“If you place this egg here, if you let it dream,” Konol said, uncertain, “then I do not know what the tower will do with it.”

“It isn’t what the tower will do with it,” Midian said, “It’s what the dungeon will do with us.”

“It is not a proper dungeon,” Konol said, his worry evident in his tone. “You are risking much here.”

“And what is the alternative?” Rotgoriel asked.

“Would Geebo’s soul, mixed with Rotgoriel’s, be enough to form his egg into a new god?” Midian asked Konol.

Konol gave it some thought. “No. But it would be enough to sustain the world for a time. And if I lent what was left of myself to it, it could continue your spell for some time. For a very long time.”

“And then what?” Agnezsharron protested.

But Midian was already acting, setting the egg on the ground, and backing away. “Go, little guy. Nest Dungeon.”

And with a flicker, they were back in the swamp.

But this time it was different. There was a circle of mud huts around them and an empty firepit in the center of them.

“Now what?” Rotgoriel asked.

“It is an empty dungeon,” Konol said. “The energy of the tower is enough to sustain it, but it will not grow. Not without death.”

“That’s the next part,” Midian said, nodding. “Konol, can you keep my timestop going until the dungeon is powerful enough to support it on its own?”

“Until I am gone. Which will happen. It is not a total cessation of time. It merely slows down the inevitable. But for a time, I can keep it going, yes.”

“And what happens when that time is done?” Rotgoriel asked.

“Then I sing Geebo’s egg into hatching,” Agnezsharron spoke. “And a new god is born.”

“No,” Konol said. “Geebo himself will not be enough, even with your life given to him. Rotgoriel must rank up and sleep. And Richard must join him while he slumbers. The three of them together will be enough, if you give of your life, if you sing them to being.”

“Then we are still lost,” Rotgoriel said, peering around. “The swamp is empty. There is nothing for me to slay to gain the level I need.”

“There is.” Midian said, reaching up and removing her earrings. “Make it quick, dear.”

It took him a second to get her meaning.

“No,” Agnezsharron beat him to it.

“Absolutely not,” he declared.

“I will respawn. I have plenty of tokens. And you’ll need someone on the outside to get you the mirror. Shouldn’t take long, if things go my way.”

“It still feels wrong,” Rotgoriel muttered.

“Yeah, well...” she stretched, then walked over and put her neck against his nearest claws. “Nobody got what they wanted today. Konol take the wheel!”

Rotgoriel didn’t know what she meant, but he knew what he had to do. And with a gurgle, and a spray of blood, it was done.

It wasn’t as much experience as he was expecting. The early players had found this, found that willing sacrifice barely generated any experience. That the cost in revival time or tokens generally wasn’t worth it.

But here and now, it was enough.

You are now a level 25 Stone Dragon!

CON+30

STR+30

WILL+30

WIS+30

Armor +25

Endurance +25

Mental Fortitude +25

You have learned the Rank Up skill!

Rotgoriel looked away as Midian’s body fell to the ground, and stared into Agnezsharron’s eyes.

Thunder rumbled, and clouds began to collect in the swamp. Insects stirred to life, whirring and chirping.

“All life comes from death,” Agnezsharron told him. “It is up to us to ensure her sacrifice is not in vain.”

“What will you do now?” Rotgoriel whispered.

“I have no way home from here. And now I know what nature desired of me. I shall go into the swamp and find the core chamber. And I shall guard you there, until Richard comes, and I can sing you into a new god.”

Rotgoriel bowed his head. “I am sorry it came to this.”

“Do not be,” she said, nuzzling his cheek with her own. “It has been worth it. And when you wake again, it shall be to a better world.”

Rotgoriel twisted his lips, tried to approximate a human smile. And then, trusting in her, trusting in Konol, trusting in Midian, and trusting in Rich to hold on until they could save him, he spoke his final words in the world that was.

“Rank Up.”