It felt like the seconds had turned into hours as Sam walked up the entrance tunnel. The gate swung open like its hinges had been lubricated with glue, and his feet seemed to take days to move forward for the next step.

This is stupid, he harangued himself as he stepped out of the dungeon and into the cool of the evening. It was just a simple death. The dragon had promised it would be quick, painless, and then he would wake up in the White Room none the worse for wear.

And yet, he couldn’t get it out of his mind. He was walking, willingly, to his death. It wasn’t a decision made in haste, to save a life in peril. It wasn’t a surprise, like being shot in the back. It wasn’t even the culmination of a frantic plan in the heat of battle. It was a measured, calculated, slow-roasted and served up well-done decision.

And for some reason he couldn’t even begin to fathom, that made a difference.

“You don’t have to do this Sam,” Ma whispered from his side, her hand clenched around his. “We could fight.”

“It’s a smart plan Ma,” he whispered back, squeezing her hand. “And it’ll be fine. A few minutes in the White Room, and we’ll have bought more time to prepare.”

“Yes,” Ma said, turning to look at him as they walked. “But you still don’t have to do this.”

His parents flanked him, having refused to stay behind. Char and Sheshek trailed him to act as counselors if he needed them. And Pearl, stalwart Pearl, fluttered overhead, recording everything.

“Yeah Sam,” she said, and maybe he was just imagining the tremble in her. “You don’t have to go get munched. I mean, yeah, it’s smart… But maybe it’s kinda dumb too? I mean, if you’d rather figure something else out, we can brainstorm some more… Maybe ask Quenty for some more time?”

God it sounded tempting. But…

“No,” he sighed. “No, this is the smart play. Let’s just get it over with.”

But the closer he got to Melloram, his little entourage with him, the more he felt doubt building up in his chest, like a furnace being over-stoked.

Was this the smart play? Everything made sense, everything seemed to point towards the fact… And yet, aside from the whole ‘not wanting to get eaten under any circumstance’ part, it felt like there was still something he was missing. Something important.

He still hadn’t figured out what it was as he passed through the town gates and his boots hit cobblestones.

“Sam,” a familiar voice made him turn, and there was Nat, darting out from an alleyway to fall in beside him. “I heard. Hell, the whole town heard. You’re not seriously doing this, are you?”

“Yes, I am,” Sam sighed. “And since I don’t have the time for a debate, please don’t try to talk me out of it, okay?”

“Okay,” the elf nodded slowly. Then, after just the right amount of time, glanced over and asked; “So can I have your room, then?”

Sam snorted, then casually leaned over and whacked his friend on the back of the head. “I’m coming back, dumbass.”

“You have the weirdest life, man.”

“Tell me about it.” Sam paused and frowned, glancing at the elf as they walked. “Hey. Did Sensei Long-Stride… I mean, I haven’t seen him around…”

Nat’s boyish face clouded over, and he shook his head, golden hair rippling with the motion.

“That… Thing. Took him first.” Nat’s voice was soft and trembled. “Said he was… A prime sacrifice.”

Sam glanced up at the Guardian Power tab, where his new Plunder power now rested. Rakun had had access to that same power. And Sensei Long-Stride had been a mid-level Monk before retiring. Probably one of the highest levels in the town.

“Damn,” Sam breathed. He’d liked the old man, with his sharp tongue and fast hands.

“Yeah,” Nat agreed.

And then any further words were drowned out in a rush of air and the deep thumping of wingbeats. Sam looked up just in time to see the great red form of the wyrm streak above the town, wings outstretched against the evening sky. The sight sent the monkey part of Sam’s brain screaming into the corner, demanding that he take cover.

But that wasn’t the plan.

“You’re not gonna want to see this, Nat,” he told his friend when the roar had died down. “Get back to your family.”

“They’re in the upstairs room at the tavern, watching through the windows,” Nat said deadpan.

“They’re what?” Ma blurted. “Oh, no no no. They are not going to add more scars to their souls by watching a dragon eat my son, not on your life.”

“Sam,” Pa said, chuckling, “we’re going to go ride herd on the youngsters. You going to be alright?”

“I’ll live,” Sam said with a quirk of his lips.

Nat snorted. “Well I’m not leaving. You pulled me out of that shithouse when that bastard had me working his ritual for him. I can walk with you up to a dragon’s mouth.”

Sam smiled. “Alright. Just make sure you get out of there if something goes wrong. And Nat?”

“Yeah?”

“No heroics.”

“Yeah.”

His parents peeled off as they approached the square, heading for the Keg and Kauldron, the only tavern worth mentioning in Melloram. The kobolds hung back on the edge of the square.

And Sam and Nat walked out into the square, where a dragon waited for them.

The great wyrm looked almost like a cat, the way lit layed with its hind legs under its great bulk and its forelegs crossed in front, head raised up high and watching them approached. But there was nothing catlike about its gaze, nor the languid strength beneath those scales. Sam felt his heart rate speed up just looking at the creature, and felt his palms start to sweat.

“Hey Sam?” Nat’s voice was a whisper-thin squeak.

“Yeah,” Sam whispered back.

“I’ve changed my mind. I’m gonna go wait with your parents.”

“Then go.”

“I don’t wanna turn my back on it.”

“Him,” Sam corrected automatically. And then they were in front of the great wyrm, looking up at that massive face as it looked back at them.

“Thou art punctual, Samuel Tolliver,” Quentin rumbled.

“My Ma always said it wasn’t polite to keep company waiting,” Sam said, resisting the urge to wipe his hands on his trousers. Especially when they’re a million times your weight and a thousand times your level.

“She sounds a wise lady,” the dragon said, and by god it smiled. The smile was almost as terrifying as it’s stare. “Does she look upon us from one of these buildings?”

“Yeah,” Sam jerked his chin towards the tavern. “She’s over there. With my Pop. They’re… Keeping some kids from getting nightmares tonight.”

The dragon grunted in what might have been sympathy, apathy, or just simple acknowledgment. “Then thou hast made thy decision?”

Sam swallowed hard. “I have.”

“I must hear thee say it.”

Sam opened his mouth—

And froze.

Blood rushed in his ears, his heart pounded a driving rhythm in his breast, and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight at attention. Instinct roared through him, demanding his attention, warning that his entire world was about to end in fire and screams.

He swallowed hard and turned his head slowly. Nat was there, eyes round and fixed on the dragon. He looked the other way. Nothing there. No threats, no danger… A curtain twitched in a second story window, but a moment later a small face appeared, gaping, before it was pulled back.

“Samuel Tolliver, what is thine answer? I must hear it so that honor may be satisfied.

Except it wouldn’t be.

Sam saw it then, and knew that it wasn’t going to work.

“Quentin,” his voice cracked, and he cleared his throat and tried again. “Quentin. Why does your mistress want me dead?”

“I know not the full details. Only that thou hast declared thyself her enemy and as such mine and those like me.” The dragon tossed his head in what must have been the equivalent of a shrug. “Does it matter?”

“It does,” Sam drew in a deep breath. “May I ask another question?”

“Thou may, but tarry not overlong on this subject. I must have an answer within the next few minutes if I am to satisfy her.”

“Why didn’t you just kill me?”

The Wyrm blinked at that and cocked its head to the side.

“She wants me dead,” Sam continued, feeling his way forward inch by inch. “There’s no reason to give me an ultimatum. I was there, you could have killed me in an instant. But you didn’t. You went out of your way to announce yourself, to give me time to decide, to say my goodbyes… You did that.”

“I did,” the dragon said neutrally, great golden eyes fixed on Sam and unblinking.

“She doesn’t know you’re doing this, does she?”

The dragon’s face, which had been neutral up to this point, went utterly blank, and those golden eyes narrowed fractionally.

“Thou art shrewder than thy years suggest,” Quentin said finally. “No, she does not. But I am not an assassin, to sneak in under darkness. Nor a thug, to slay dishonorably without giving mine foe a chance to make peace with god and mortal. I am Quentintholingescarin, high Wyrm of the razortops, seneschal of the eastern hoard, steward of Mage’s Fall, lord of the Far Reach. And if I am to kill thee, it shall be as an honored foe, or on the field of battle. And not thee, nor my mistress, nor the lords of creation themselves may say otherwise.”

Sam nodded slowly, then closed his eyes.

Shit.

“I won’t stay dead.”

He felt the breeze from Nat whipping his head around to stare at him, but he kept his gaze locked on the wyrm’s eyes. He saw them blink, saw them widen, then narrow in thought. Then blink again in understanding.

“Thou art an immortal.”

“I’m close enough that it doesn’t matter,” Sam said. And with each word the rushing died down, and his pulse slowed. It was done, and somehow, despite the panic still circling in his hindbrain, it felt right. “I will die, but I am bound to a being that will bring me back in only a few minutes, at full health and ready for action again.”

Another blink, and the head lowered slowly. Sam stepped back, and again, as the dragon brought his head down to Sam’s level, until he was eye to eye with the Great wyrm and could smell the flame on his breath and feel the heat from its hide.

“Thou planned to trick me. To allow me to slay thee, to go on my way thinking I had accomplished my mistress’s commands, and then to return to life after I had gone.”

“Was this part of the plan?” Nat hissed into Sam’s ear. “Because it doesn’t feel like this was part of the plan.”

“I did,” Sam said, nodding.

“But now thou hast laid bare thy plan to me. Why?”

Sam felt a tight smile form on his lips. “Because you gave me three hours when you didn’t have to. Because a friend once told me that a dragon values honor more highly than gold or jewels. And,” he added with a harsh laugh, “because you would have found out sooner or later, and I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t be one to just shrug and walk away after receiving news like that.”

“Pragmatic.” Quentin nodded. “But honorable as well. Thou knowest I cannot disobey my mistress. She hath ordered thy death, and only thy death will serve.”

“I know.”

The dragon nodded its great head again, and its eyes narrowed in thought. “Thou art truly an honorable man, to have told me this, Samuel Tolliver.” A claw the size of a swordblade came forward and scratched under its chin thoughtfully. “Perhaps…”

Whoomph.

The sound was so unexpected that it took Samuel almost until his head was fully turned towards it before he realized what it was. The sound of displaced air, of a body suddenly occupying space where it hadn’t moments before.

Lich King Araxesendenak stood a bare ten paces away, armored in bone and chitin, wearing a crown of spikes and blades. His eyes blazed ruby red, and in his hand was a reaper’s scythe dripping darkness from its blade.

“I am here,” the lich snarled in its nasally voice, “to make a statment.”

He swung the scythe. A bolt of pure darkness shot out of it.

Right at Nat.

Sam didn’t have time to think, or breathe, or blink. But his reflexes were already on top of it. Before he registered the action, he was pushing off with both feet. Before he knew what was happening, his chest was between the bolt and his friend.

Before he could scream, he was dead.

* * *

He woke in the White Room and shot to his feet. His eyes wide, his heart slamming against his ribcage. The phantom pain in his chest already fading. But the terror only grew.

The lich was there.

His family was there.

His friends were there.

Respawn Timer Active: Cooldown, 8 minutes.

“NO!”