While Silence tried to piece together what had just happened in his realm, Blackthorne was faced with an interesting consideration. He did not know where he was, or even how he got to be there.

"The hell?" He looked around for a moment. He was within the halls of some ancient looking place filled with toppled pillars and twisting shadows. Various bits of crystal inside of braziers lit the area in a pale blue light, but otherwise all was darkness.

Blackthorne frowned as only a dragon might frown. "How did I get here...?"

The soft whisper of the goddess who spoke system messages slipped into his mind. "You have crossed the veil between the living and the dead. Faced with a trial, you return to this realm reborn in triumph."

He blinked then tilted his head sideways a little. It was not the first time that he had heard the voice. It was also not the first time that he felt there was a strangely familiar quality to it. Yet, it was not until this moment that he was able to place the familiar voice with a face.

"The hell? Why does the system voice sound like Shara?" It was not a perfect match, but it was so close to be eerie. "I never noticed it before."

Had he noticed it before? He was uncertain. The moment he spoke those words a vile taste spread across his tongue. It was as though he had told a lie, and yet at first he could legitimately not recall noticing such a similarity before. As the disturbing taste left his tongue, however, little bits and pieces of memory resurfaced. There were indeed times when he had noticed that the system voice sounded like Shara. Yet, for some reason it seemed that he would almost immediately forget about it only to remember it again later almost at random.

Blackthorne rubbed his scaly head for a moment then sighed. He did not have a headache, but his head still felt odd. It was like a hive of bees were angrily buzzing around inside of his skull.

He sat back on his haunches then shook his head rapidly. Words, voices, all manner of strangeness entered his mind. Yet, this time it was not the same as the hateful words and voices from before. Instead of calling him a shrimp fuck, or what have you, they almost seemed to be like children at prayer.

"Please, dread fang of the heavens, protect big sister Melisandre from the evil one and keep us safe..." whispered Blackthorne softly.

"Why would that be in my head?" he asked, confused. "Voices get weirder by the day."

Several other voices appeared as well. All of them children save for two older ones. They sang a strange song reminiscent of a dark nursery rhyme, albeit one where the rhyming part was all over the place.

~ On midnight wings he comes to us, yet he blazes like the sun...

His fury born of righteous scorn, all wickedness shall be undone...

The first of scale and claw, eternal is his love....

Children sheltered beneath his wings, rest safe their weary souls...

Eyes of flame, he'll heal the lame and burn away our woes...

Justice arrives for man and god, in that darkened time he'll come...

To deliver us from wicked grasp, and to slay the evil one. ~

"I— what?" he asked slowly. "Where is all of this coming from?"

A soft feminine voice reached his ears. "Did you say your prayers, little ones?"

"Please, hear the prayers of these little ones and keep them safe. Oh, if only you would show us a sign that you are listening... I would suffer any indignity if I could only know that there is hope for these little ones," whispered the same voice in an almost inaudible tone.

Several childish voices responded warmly with various jubilant agreements. "Yes, big sister Melisandre!" said one voice quite loudly. It was a sweet high-pitched little voice that could only belong to a very small child.

"Melisandre..." whispered Blackthorne softly, as though he were tasting the words.

The voices cut off suddenly, which was an oddity that he was accustomed to witnessing. He waited to see if anything else would happen, but no other conversations were forth coming. So, he set about exploring the area. If nothing else he would need to find a safe place to sleep in order to try and get in touch with Sonja back on Earth. It would be much easier to do it that way, rather than to simply wait until he found his way out of wherever he was at the moment.

What Blackthorne did not know was that something profound had happened. An entire world away, deep within the Appalachian Mountains, Dozens of little dragons had gathered around in concern. Their big sister had suddenly stood up straight and then froze in place. Soon, tears trickled down her cheeks.

A large man with slightly frilled ears, and flaming red hair rushed over to the gathering. "What has happened, children?"

"Big brother! Something is wrong with big sister," said a little wingless dragon who looked a great deal like an ankylosaurus that was roughly the size of an average house sat. The oldest of the hatchlings, he was also the largest among them.

A tiny pink fairy dragon no larger than a duck egg fluttered around Melisandre's head. In a sweet high-pitched voice she cried out, "Sister! Sister! What is wrong?"

The large man reached out and grabbed Melisandre by the shoulders. "Are you alright, sister?"

Melisandre did not blink, but she did turn slowly to look her brother in the eyes. There was an expression of surprise and absolute wonder etched on her face.

"Sister..." he said quietly, his own eyes filled with grave concern, "What has come over you?"

Melisandre bit her lower lip then shook her head. "I did not imagine it. I could not have done so..."

"What? Please speak to us, sister!" he cried.

"My name.... he whispered my name," she said reverently.

"What? Was it that vile creature again?" asked her brother.

"No..." Melisandre shook her head slowly then looked her brother in the eyes once more. "He's come at last. He really did come... I know it."

"Who has...?" asked her brother only for his own eyes to widen in surprise. "Surely you don't mean?"

"The children had just prayed. In my heart I asked for a sign, any sign that he was listening. That these little ones would be spared the cruelty of that abomination's hateful whims...." she said.

"Oh... Sister," said her brother softly. His eyes misted over and his serpentine pupils dilated slightly. She had suffered so much, and now it had finally come to this.

"You think me mad?" she asked him seriously.

"I think you tired, sister," he said gently. "Whether he has heard us and is acting at last, or that was not the case, you need to rest while you can."

Melisandre closed her eyes then nodded slowly. She knew it to be no mere hallucination, her mind would not treat her so cruelly. Yet, her brother did speak wisdom. She did in fact need to rest.