A shrill wind held Westedge in its grasp, much had it done for the past several weeks. Lothar paced back and forth in the Grand Shrine; the amount of braziers encircling the center had doubled in recent time. It had been several weeks since his push had kicked off. His great gamble.

It was a straining undertaking. Far beyond anything else Lothar had ever thought up; his attempts at holding back the imperial tide all those years ago were insectlike in comparison. Despite there being no meeting planned for the day, he paced up and down his clearing, heaving under the pressure of the skies.

“Divinity almighty… I know I have pleaded this with you so many times before, but please, please show me that you are with me. Do not abandon me…”

The braziers flickered in response. Lothar sighed, and scratched at his other foot.

“Be with us, be with us… Lokahn cannot falter… Lokahn cannot falter… The land cries out in pain… be with us… Your flames will be snuffed out for good should we fail…. Be with us…“

All the braziers flickered once more. “I see. Thank you, Divinity. We will do as you please...” Lothar whispered under his breath. Alas, his praying had left much to be desired. I swear, If not by a sword through my belly, this will be the end of me. Oh, by Divinity almighty, what could I have done to upset it? Has my gamble been for naught… are my troops being slaughtered en masse?

The golden dragon sat down on his haunches, and raised his ambers to the skies. Not a cloud in sight, and a perfectly full moon shone amidst the stars layered across the silky skies. This was a night in which the hallowed flames should have roared, and yet they remained so timid. Whatever the cause may be, it could never be a good thing. Then, out of the blue, a voice spoke up.

“Lord Lothar?”

Lothar almost jumped from the shiver shooting down his back. “Flaratia!”

The red dragoness took a step back in surprise. “My lord, no need to be afraid, it’s only me...”

“My, my apologies, Flaratia,” Lothar said. “I was not expecting anyone, let alone you. Were you not busy training young dragons in the Origin Temple?”

Flaratia nodded. “Indeed, but I have news to share, hence why I am here now. Is something the matter, my lord? You look quite frightened.”

Lothar shook his head. “Oh, no no no, not at all. Pray, bear with me. I did not see nor hear anyone in the past minute or so. Before I looked towards the skies, I mean. A little confusion was to be expected, I suppose, hah.”

The red dragoness tilted my head. “You seem awfully strange today, my lord.”

The golden dragon gulped. “How so?”

Flaratia raised a claw to her chin. “Usually you are not so… lighthearted, if it can be called that. Do not misunderstand me, and my apologies if what I am about to say may come over as odd, but you’ve always been one with an iron will, my lord. Astute, stern, focused at all times, sometimes in a quite… uncomfortable manner, if I do say so myself. Again, my apologies, but I did not expect this from you. That is all.”

Lothar breathed in deep, and back out. Iron willed… this mask of mine has worked perfectly well in these last few years… but it had to come off one day.

“My dear, do not forget that I… no soul is impervious. Only Divinity is. I strive for stoicism, much like many Lokahnian kings of the past have, but there are bound to be a few moments.” King…

The red dragoness smiled. “Indeed, a king is what you will be. Once Lokahn is ours again.”

Lothar grumbled. “Hmm...”

“Is there something wrong, my lord?”

“No, it is nothing. It is only… I believe you would... ” He breathed out to relieve the pressure building on his chest. All of a sudden, it felt as if he had been crushed underneath a mountain. A king. Even after years of this idea being reinforced by all living creatures whom had their presences graced by him, it was an idea out of this world still.

“I believe anyone, myself included, would require time to understand the gravity of their fate once they know it. Certainly, we all have long known that I will be claiming the throne as my own, now that the old king and his family have entered the annals of history. Yet there is so much within me that… does not seem prepared.”

“What makes you say that, my lord?” Flaratia tilted her head slightly. “You have held the torch of Lokahn in your claw for the past eight years. You are the one all Lokahnians true to their faith and longing for freedom look towards for guidance. There is no better candidate for the throne, is there?”

Lothar shook his head. “I understand. But at the same time, I cannot help but fear what such a burden would entail. What would become of the people I have met over the years once they become my subjects? Would I ever see them again? What would become of my son?”

Flaratia gulped. “Well, according to Divinity’s law, the oldest child of the king will be the heir to his titles should he pass away.”

Vykroz… he will have to become like me one day. The golden dragon clicked his tongue. “That is what I was afraid of.”

“How so, my lord?” Flaratia’s tail swished back and forth over the gravel path.

“Follow me,” Lothar said, raising himself off his haunches, proceeding to walk down one of the gravel paths out of the shrine’s center. “It will be a long story.”

Flaratia gulped once more. “Alright, then...”

A wave of cold hit both dragons head on as they left the comforting aura of the braziers. The path had been darkened significantly; had it not been for the moon, it would have become one with the void of a common winter’s night. Even then, finding their way through the maze-like paths of the shrine was the least of either dragons worries.

“Lothar, what is the meaning of this, exactly? I can hardly see you like this.” As I had intended.

“No worries, my dear Flaratia. I find it difficult to tell stories such as these without a little stretching of the legs. I am not becoming any younger, unfortunately. These rusty old bones of mine need to stay in motion.”

Flaratia hummed a monotone note. “Well, I suppose there is nothing wrong with that. But it is hard to talk in the dark.”

“There is no need to worry about that. It will all be clear and bright as dawn soon.” As will my true self be… Divinity almighty, it appears there truly is no hiding anymore.

They reached a smaller clearing, deep into the shrine. It was as far from Westedge city proper one could get in these gardens. As he fell back onto his haunches, Lothar tilted his head back to the skies, basking in the nocturnal light coating his scales pale. His body cast a shade over the red dragoness behind; he paid it no heed.

“I believe you have heard plenty of my son.”

Flaratia nodded. “Indeed I have. Victor, his name was. Or wait, was it Vykroz? My apologies, my lord. I haven’t spoken much with him, I’m afraid.”

Lothar sighed. “Vykroz is what I call him. But in truth, his birth name, and the name he prefers to go by is Victor. He refuses to listen whenever I refer to him by the former, unfortunately. But that is besides the matter. You have heard of… well, how he has been ever since his Blessing.”

“It has been impossible to ignore,” Flaratia said. “The impression it had left on you has been… remarkable, to say the least. As a matter of fact, it was when he first came among us that you’ve changed so abruptly, Lothar. You weren’t this unmovable titan any longer, pardon me again.” All the while the distance, the wind howled over the barren fields. As the wind howls, so does doom’s echoes haunt the roads ahead, so the Lokahnian saying went.

The golden dragon, clutching at his chest, lowered his head out of the light. “It is because of my son. For the longest time, my lone fear… was losing my family. My beautiful wife and my wonderful little angels, their very futures were my lifeblood. The fear had gotten to the point where I began thinking of bring them over to us. But then...” he paused, for his teeth had begun to chatter. “I do not believe I need to remind you of what happened next.”

Flaratia’s pupils darted towards the closest way out of the shrine. “No, no you do not.”

Lothar sighed. “It is for that reason that I fear. On that day, I lost almost everything. Divinity bless us all for leaving us in blissful ignorance at what would have happened, had I been a minute too late. I had my son still. I had my son… but my son was broken. He had always been such a bright young boy growing up. I had never seen him so scared, so terrified and loathing of his own existence before...”

“It was his transformation, Lothar. Let’s not beat this around the bush or attempt to ignore it. Had we not turned him, it would-”

The golden dragon craned his head far off to the side, in a manner which was painful to even look at. “I know, no need to remind me.”

“Okay...” Flaratia backed away a pace.

“But the truth is… I have been attempting to shelter him from any sort of regal responsibility as best as I can. His life as it is, with his… associates of dubious quality, is difficult enough as it is. But I cannot shelter him forever. He must learn the way of kings eventually.”

“Is that truly necessary?” Flaratia asked.

“If I wish to hold a sliver of legitimacy, certainly it is. This is how Lokahn was ruled over for generations… and by Divinity, it is how it is meant to be ruled over,” Lothar solemnly said.

Flaratia lowered her head. “I see...But the road ahead is a long one.”

Lothar grunted. “Do not misunderstand, he has grown more accepting of his blood. But there remains much distance to cover. He remains fearful and timid to this very day. Perhaps it can never truly be cured out of him, but one of royal blood cannot afford to be so...”

Flaratia laid a talon on Lothar’s shoulder. “Don’t you worry. We’ll figure out a way to do it, right?”

Lothar nodded. “Yes...”

* * *

The sounds of a battle echoed in the distance. Merahn, perched on a small bluff, tilted her nose into the air. Unmistakably, it had to be Frontsmen engaging against the occupier. Merahn spat out into the air in front. Her own men would’ve had taken care of this whole imperial situation by now.

The grey dragoness turned her head away from the smell, raising a talon into her mouth. Thankfully, by the grace of Divinity, there was still a trace of red iron to be tasted. It had been some time since her last battle; all the other complications of running a rebellion against a rebellion had gotten in the way. Fighting is what she lived for, and fighting she craved. It was like the stories of faraway peoples chewing the same plant again and again, they couldn’t bring themselves to stop. Why would they stop? Why would she give up on the greatest cause known to Terris? It was a choice only for the foolish.

But alas, no battle was won without preparation. If Lothar had taught her any wisdom, this was it. As uninteresting as the training and tests were, they had to be done. And this afternoon was no exception. Merahn jolted off her comfy spot, into the wind.

“Damn it, I’ve forgotten!”

Like a wayward kite, Merahn skirted over the treetops back to the cave. Birds flocked away from the trees as she passed overhead, as did deer gallop away deeper into the forests. The lynx spiders were more tact in their approach, skittering away silently. Even if she were hungry, Merahn had no time for them, though.

Ten minutes of flight later, the cave Merahn’s Hallowed Army had made home came into sight. Dragons of various colors and sizes were gathered out in front, Veraede’s pale scales shining most of all in the winter sun’s light. She was pacing back and forth, as usual. Merahn cleared her throat.

“This is bound to be fun...” she muttered, as she held her wings against the wind to land. “My apologies for being late.”

“Did we spent time lounging on the bluffs again, Merahn?” Veraede said, unimpressed. Merahn scoffed.

“Pfft, you know me too well.”

Veraede flicked her head off to the side. “Whatever. You better not grow as lax as that golden fool has. I will have your head myself.”

“Come on now, Veraede. As if I would ever sink to such lows. One simple little meeting isn’t everything. But enough of that. How is the situation?”

Veraede grunted. “We have convinced some of those that stayed behind to come with us. Lothar’s oh so wonderful leadership is working in our favor, it seems like.”

“Good, good...” Merahn clasped her claws together. “And, are there more on the way?”

“Indeed there are. For every ten of those freshly blessed, one will leave the flock and join the pack.A taste of power and a strong mind is all it takes to join us. It is no wonder why they hold their seminars telling the youngbloods to ‘remain in touch with their human side’. We’d have crushed the cowards long ago!”

Merahn laughed. “Excellent! Lothar’s little band will soon be found wanting. All those willing to save their own hides will come to us. As for the others… Lothar can have them. What a waste of draconic blood. Now then, enough of that golden fool for now. It is fine time we find a base of operations of our own.”

Veraede spat at her feet. “If you say so. Dragons have no need for anything more than a cave.”

“A central base is useful, Veraede. Lokahn’s liberation will not come into being from mere nomads, as unfortunate as that might be. How has the search gone?”

“We’ve found a suitable spot, alright,” one of the males nearby replied, “The mountains on the border with Easgandia will be perfect. Defending them will be easy. And the imperials do not expect to find anything there; they have left the region in control of a band of local mercenaries. Sweeping them away will not be difficult. It is the perfect home for dragons.”

Merahn grinned. “How wonderful. Everything is going according to plan… As Divinity always intended. My brothers and sisters… it would appear we have our work cut out for us. Let us show these mercenaries what we are made of!”

As a thunderstorm, Merahn spread her wings and roared. The others too, spread their wings and let out monstrous bellows, which echoed throughout the lands.