There was no one to help him. Contort and Rosemary were deeper in the forest, in spats of their own, fighting for their lives in battles Joseph didn’t dare to dwell on. Moriguchi took a few more steps forward. Joseph mirrored, stepping back, nearly tripping over a root as he kept his eyes fixed firmly on the Exodus Walker. Moriguchi cracked his knuckles.

“You’re new to all this, aren’t you, comacho?” he said, “It’s alright. We’re all new to the multiverse at some point or another.”

“H-how do you know I'm new?” Joseph said, “I could be experienced. Very experienced. A veteran, even. You should be careful.”

“Such bravado will get you nowhere. I like it, though. Makes you look strong. But false machismo only gets you so far,” Moriguchi took another step, “What’s your name?”

Joseph stepped back once more.

“You’re being pretty casual about this,” he said.

“Oh, sorry,” Moriguchi adjusted his sleeve for a moment, “When you’ve been at this sort of game as long as I have, you tend to not take things so seriously.”

The Exodus Walker was being professional about this, as though it were any other day at the office, but his movements told a far different story. He slid over the forest floor as though the brambles and roots didn’t exist, a true sort of strength silently speaking with each step. A master of his craft. Joseph dared a brief glance behind him. In the distance, among the tangle of leaves and branches, he could see light. A clearing? He hadn’t seen many of those here in the forest…

Moriguchi had presumably seen the same thing, for he said, “Indeed, that is Lake Oval behind you.”

“So, if I run...”

“I will catch up to you,” Moriguchi said, “You can’t beat me, amigo. Just put the pack down, and walk away.”

Joseph weighed his options. Moriguchi advanced, now just a mere five feet away from him. The world was quiet as he awaited an answer. His heart pounded.

And, sighing, Joseph put the pack down behind him, nestling it between roots so that it wouldn't topple over.

Then he turned, and raised his fists.

“So you're fighting, then?” Moriguchi said.

“Gotta put my money where my mouth is,” Joseph’s voice was like a wound spring. He began to weave in place, a nervous, excited energy filling in his stomach.

“Good,” Moriguchi nodded, “Very good. Mucha mierda.”

He loped forward like a wolf, hands opening up to grab at him. Joseph hunkered down, drawing out the dagger. Moriguchi was a wrestler – he wanted to be in close. Joseph jabbed forward, snapping his arm back into place in one fluid motion. Moriguchi jumped back. The two of them stood there, trying to find a tell in the other.

Moriguchi took the initiative once more, rushing forward again. Joseph was ready, stabbing with his knife. But the Exodus Walker went sideways, hand closing over Joseph's wrist, twisting it. Joseph grunted in pain as Moriguchi squeezed. He dropped the knife, which tumbled in the air for a brief moment before the wrestler snatched it out of the air, pushing Joseph back in the same motion. Joseph stumbled, trying to steady himself, felt his ankle twist as it fell between two roots.

He fell, leg crying out at the end, elbow slamming into an errant root, a pain that took a moment to register as a dull throb that pulsed with each heartbeat.

Moriguchi took the fall in good sport, waiting as Joseph got up, spluttering. His foot objected as he put weight on it, but it wasn’t screaming enough that he felt like it was a bad sprain.

He could run.

Moriguchi was flipping the knife over and over in a single hand, waiting for Joseph’s next move. He had relaxed out of any particular stance. No doubt he had over-estimated this young new guildmember.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Joseph said, and he turned and began to run, grabbing the pack as he did so. Moriguchi took off as well, matching his pace. They went deeper into the forest, closer to the clearing.

Rosemary's words filtered into Joseph's head.

“It's mostly just looking at the ground to see where your feet are going.”

But he couldn't afford to look down, could he? He needed to trust where he was going. At any moment, Moriguchi could pounce. He would need to be ready. A desperate idea was needling its way into his head.

He just needed to be quick about-

Moriguchi leaped, dagger pointed at Joseph's chest. Joseph stopped, dead in his tracks, ready to take the shot. The dagger went into his ribcage – or would have, had it not hit his coat. He wrapped the denim jacket around the dagger, and by extension, Moriguchi's arm. Moriguchi tried to pull free, but Joseph threw off his jacket, folded it over the wrestler's head and shoved him to the ground.

A few precious seconds as Moriguchi struggled to free himself. Joseph took advantage of this and took off again, ignoring the shots of pain spidering up his sprained ankle with each footfall.

And he made it, just to the edge of the clearing. A beautiful lake greeted him, a perfect oval, the water serene and calm. A few dragonflies danced around its smooth surface, occasionally touching down to form ripples on the water. Joseph looked around frantically.

“Hey!” he called out, “I got the egg!”

He lifted the pack into the air. He could hear footsteps behind him. Joseph jumped to the side as Moriguchi tried to tackle him, eating dirt as he tumbled. He stood up, facing off against Joseph once more. He was drawing out the dagger again...

And then the lake exploded. Joseph's eyes widened. Moriguchi looked up, as well, and stood transfixed-

As a Dragon rose out of the water. Long and serpentine, golden scales glittering in the mid-afternoon sun, their body as thick as a tree trunk. The Dragon's head was gargantuan, fully larger than Joseph's body, with a long snout and two great, yellow eyes with pupils the size of dinner plates. What seemed to be an old scar ran between them, and antler-like horns adorned their head like a monarch's crown. Twin whiskers, just below the Dragon's nose, snaked down and just barely scratched the surface of the water.

All went quiet – birds that had been chirping stopped, the wind paused its whistling through the trees. Joseph couldn't even hear his own breathing as he looked up the length of the great, twisting being. The Dragon looked down at Joseph, eyes darting for a moment up at the treeline where Moriguchi waited. They opened their maw and let out a great roar that shattered the sound barrier. Joseph covered his ears, could feel the egg jiggling from the pressure as pure force overtook and flooded through him. His ears were ringing as he looked back to see Moriguchi had disappeared. Then, the Dragon's gaze fell on Joseph.

And waited. Joseph gulped, ready to be eaten at any moment, egg and all.

Then, a thought came to him.

“So, uh,” he gulped, “Y-you're the client?”

Indeed.

The voice boomed in his head with the force of a jackhammer, deep and terrible and flecked with exhaustion.

Joseph gingerly took the egg out of the pack. It was slippery as he held it, and for a moment he was afraid it would slide out and splatter on the ground. He could see now an embryo had grown within the egg – a small, noodly form twisted in a knot, red veins connecting it to the egg’s membrane. He held the gelatinous orb in both hands, presenting it up to the Dragon, kneeling on the ground, trying to keep his body from shuddering from a combination of fear and awe. The Dragon's sinewy neck unwound out of the water, droplets splashing onto the shores of the lake, splattering the sand and staining it a deep gold. They stared at the egg.

My child.

“Yeah,” Joseph said, “I'm s-sorry, it got jostled a bit when I was running here...”

That is alright. My child is safe.

A claw emerged, arcing down with a slow, tectonic grace. The Dragon plucked the egg out of Joseph's hands, two talons holding it with an impossible gentleness. The Dragon began rumbling out a deep, cooing noise that shook the earth as they raised the egg up to the light of the sun, which refracted and scattered. Joseph covered his eyes, blinking back tears from the harshness of the light, before the Dragon lowered it down, their eyes looking down at their child, a mixture of love and heartbreak in their eyes.

“Have you...” Joseph said, not wanting to interrupt the moment, but curiosity still getting the better of him, “Have you been separated for a long time?”

Yes. A very, very long time. I have missed all of my children. Stolen from me, in ages long forgotten.

“Oh,” Joseph said. He didn't need to imagine the Dragon's sorrow – he could see it painted in their eyes, in the way that they held it, “I'm sorry.”

The Dragon's eyes slid from the egg, staring at Joseph, gauging his sincerity. For a moment, he saw a bit of the heartbreak fall away.

You are kind. Kinder than most. What is your name, guild member?

“Joseph. Joseph Zheng.”

I sense in you power. I sense in you potential. I will awaken it. A reward, for your kindness.

The Dragon lowered the egg into the water as they brought themself closer to him, so close that Joseph could see his breath collect on the Dragon's metallic snout. Then, what he thought had been the scar on their forehead split open to reveal a third bright, orange eye, vertical and staring into his mind. The eye's intensity matched the sun high above, boring into Joseph, who felt something shift. He felt wind inundate his entire body, picking up and whipping around him, a mirage surrounding him that shimmered like a liquid kaleidoscope, before shattering into a million pieces. His vision began going dark, his blood felt like it had been replaced with battery acid, his flesh felt like it was melting away...

I NAME YOU, AS I NAMED YOU IN ANCIENT TIMES. I REVEAL YOU, AS I REVEALED YOUR ANCESTORS. ARISE, WORLD-MAKER, EXPLORER, ENEMY OF STAGNATION.

ARISE, METAHUMAN.

Something that sounded like an explosion echoed in Joseph's mind and then disappeared. Joseph gently landed back on the ground on his hands and knees, his breathing haggard. He looked up to find that the Dragon had left. The lake had stilled, pristine like a sheet of glass.

***

“Well, that's it, then,” Moriguchi said. He had retreated back into the forest during the Dragon’s arrival, and was now walking back towards the lake’s edge, “Congratulations, Amber Foundation.”

He took out a small, handheld radio, “Meldorn, Jani, we're done here. Let's go home.”

“That's it?” Joseph coughed, his head swimming, “You're just going... you're just going to leave?”

“No more point in fighting. The Dragon got the egg. And I don't feel like tussling with a metahuman.”

He turned around and walked back into the forest, whistling absentmindedly to himself. Joseph couldn’t help but glare. He tried to stand up, but exhaustion overtook him, took his breath away and sat him back down. He was drenched in cold, clammy sweat, like he was a bad night’s sleep away from a fever.

New footsteps behind him - boots crunching on the ground.

“Oh, thank goodness you're okay!” Rosemary cried out, grabbing him by the shoulders, “You… are okay, right?”

“Yeah,” he said, “I'm alright.”

“No obvious injuries,” she said, looking him over, “Yeah, you're really okay!”

“No need to act so surprised,” he said, “You… you could’ve told me it was a Dragon…”

“It was a Dragon?” Contort asked, limping up from behind, “No way, been a long time since I've seen one of those...”

“They called me something,” Joseph said.

“Aww, don't feel too bad,” Contort said, “Dragons call people all kinds of bad names.”

“They called me... 'metahuman.'”

Contort's smile disappeared. Joseph noted he was scratched up, with multiple burn marks on his body – it looked like the blue alien had shot him directly through the leg. He almost collapsed as he stepped forward, bringing his face close to Joseph's.

“You're sure?” he asked.

“Yeah, I'm sure. Had a whole... 'awakening' and everything.”

“Holy shit, you're a metahuman,” Contort shook his head, “We need to let Wakeling know ASAP.”

Rosemary nodded, “Right. Let's get Broon and get out of here.”

“Guys, what gives?” Joseph said, “What the hell's a 'metahuman?'”

Rosemary gave him a sad look, “I... I don't really know how to explain it.”

“So, lemme guess, I'll have to wait 'til we get back to the guildhall to find out?”

“Yeah,” Contort said. He produced a flip phone out of his pocket and began to dial. Joseph would have said something snarky about that if he wasn't starting to freak out. What had that Dragon done to him?

“Hey, Slith?” Contort said, “Hey, I know I'm not allowed to use this line unless it's an emergency, but we gotta get back to Castle Belenus like, right now.”

He gave a few nods, a few 'mhms.' Rosemary sat down neck to Joseph.

“Did that Alonso Moriguchi hurt you at all?”

“No,” Joseph replied, “Oh, I left my jacket back there.”

“I got it,” Rosemary produced the jacket from her bag, “So the egg belonged to a Dragon, huh?”

“Y-yeah.”

“I'm jealous. I've never seen one. Contort and I were fighting the Exodus Walkers when the earth started rumbling. Then Moriguchi came back and told them it was time to go home.”

She was trying to distract him, keep him talking about random stuff in order to get his mind off everything. It didn’t seem to be working. The more that she spoke, the more Joseph's heartbeat sped up.

“Hey, uh, Rosemary?” he said, “Not helping. Can we just-”

His breath caught itself.

“Could we just stop talking real quick?”

“Yeah,” Rosemary said. Then, after a moment, “Sorry.”

“It's... it's alright.”

Contort hung up the phone, slipping it back into his pocket, “Right. Airship'll be here soon. They'll be picking Broon up, then come and grab us.”

“You sure the orcs will allow us to bring the Dreamer in?” Rosemary asked.

“Broon's being contacted. He's going to let Lohsa know. We'll probably have to pay the Salthirn government to look the other way,” Contort said, “Joseph, you good? You need anything to drink?”

“I think I'm alright,” Joseph said.

“You don't look alright,” Contort replied.

“Really, was it that obvious?” Joseph let out a mirthless laugh, “What the hell is going on?”

Contort shrugged, “Metahumans are crazy, man. Just, keep calm. Don't want you going meta, and all that.”

“...Going meta?”

“Freaking out with your powers.”

“I... don't have powers.”

Contort just gave a weak smile, and wouldn't answer any more of Joseph's questions. Rosemary was similarly tight-lipped – not that she refused to answer his questions, but she simply didn't seem to know. Instead, she prodded him for more information.

“Do you feel any different?” she asked.

Joseph checked himself. The clamminess was going away.

“I don't feel like I'm going to barf anymore,” he said, “But my blood... feels different. My chest feels... I don't know, like I'm on the verge of a panic attack, but at the same time I'm not? Does that make sense?”

“I don't know,” Rosemary replied, “But you don't seem to be dying of anything, so that's a plus.”

“Yeah, a real plus,” Joseph grumbled. He wasn't liking not having any answers.

The Dreamer's Lament arrived a few hours later, a ladder snaking down to pick them up. Ichabod and Broon greeted them.

“Got lost in the woods, now?” Ichabod said.

“Not now,” Joseph snapped, “Just shut up.”

“My, my, aren't we touchy today?”

“I said shut up, Ichabod.”

“Ichabod, lay off of him,” Contort said, “He just got some news.”

Not bad news, Joseph thought. Not necessarily good news, either.

Ichabod sighed, “Very well. I will go make sure there are no Salthirn griffoneers riding us down.”

He went back up to the bridge. Rosemary walked Joseph over to one of the couches. Broon gave him a pat on the shoulder.

“You did it, then?” he asked, “Delivered the egg to the client?”

“Yeah,” Joseph muttered, “Client was a goddamn Dragon, but yeah, we did.”

Broon nodded at that, “It looks like you're the hero of the hour, then.”

“I don't really feel like it.”

“Have a soda. Or a beer,” the half-orc chuckled. Now that they were high above Salthirn and leaving, a bit of the good-natured air had returned to him, “Get some sleep, if you want. We'll be back in Scuttleway before you know it.”

Joseph settled down, sighing. The churn of the airship was comforting, at least, as they made their way back to Castle Belenus. Broon took out a pen and paper and began writing down his report, periodically asking questions to Rosemary or Contort. They answered, but when it came to the point where Broon had to relay what had happened at the lake, all three of them looked over to Joseph.

“Joseph,” Rosemary asked, a bit tentative, “Do you... wanna talk about it?”

Joseph looked up, his mind in a fog, “Hmm? Oh, yeah. It wasn't anything special. That Alonso Moriguchi guy wrestled me, tried to stab me. I got to the lake. The Dragon appeared. I said sorry, they said I was a metahuman, then I guess they went home.”

Broon wrote this down, “I suppose that will have to do. Wakeling or Becenti will probably ask you more about it when we get back.”

“Right,” Joseph said absently.

***

He wasn't aware of when he went to sleep. His rest was, fortunately, dreamless, for when Joseph opened his eyes, all he could think of – all his mind's eye could see – was the endless, golden scales of the Dragon, the rainbow waves that had emanated from their third eye – something he was only now starting to comprehend. Someone – probably Rosemary – had again thrown a blanket over him. He felt an odd sense of deja vu as he got up. Rosemary was sleeping in the other couch, Contort under the table. Broon was awake, a book in his hand. The cover of the book said 'The Two Towers.' He was nodding thoughtfully at it.

“Good book?” Joseph asked.

Broon nodded, closing it up, “How are you feeling?”

“...Like shit. What time is it?”

“Around eleven at night. We're approaching Scuttleway now.”

The half-orc walked over and gently shook Rosemary awake. He kicked Contort lightly in the head. The two got up, yawning and stretching.

Ichabod landed the airship in its usual spot. The garden was unlit as they walked off of the Dreamer's Lament. The only light came from within the castle. They wound their way through the storage rooms and into the Great Hall. A few guild members milled about – Barbara was flying through the air high above, making circles around the glass sword. Becenti was waiting for them, leaning up against one of the tall pillars, his face stern and set.

“Metahuman?” he said.

The group pointed at Joseph.

“Right, then,” Becenti nodded, “Mr. Zheng, while Broon makes his report to Wakeling, I would ask if you would sleep elsewhere tonight.”

“Elsewhere?” Joseph asked, “Not in my dorm room?”

“No. Please, come this way.”

Without so much as an invitation, Becenti began walking off. Joseph gave one last glance at the rest of the party. Broon nodded. Rosemary gave an encouraging smile. Sighing, he followed Becenti. The older man took him to the corner of the Great Hall, opening up a door to reveal a room with a staircase that descended down.

“I'm not going to a dungeon, am I?” Joseph asked.

“No,” Becenti said, “It is nearby, however.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Becenti, however, gave him a sharp look.

“This is for the safety of everyone here in the Amber Foundation,” he said, “If you go meta, you run the risk of potentially destroying the entire castle, and everyone in it.”

Joseph glared at him, though that slipped away as he felt the full weight of Becenti’s words fall on his shoulders. Becenti watched the realization paint itself on Joseph’s face, giving a nod as what little defiance Joseph held slipped. He went down the stairs, leading Joseph to a small, sparse room with a bed and a standing table with a lamp. A heap of cookies and a pitcher of milk had been set up on the stand, along with a ham sandwich.

“Sleep here tonight,” Becenti said, “I will come retrieve you tomorrow morning to explain the situation.”

“Wait, what's going on?” Joseph said.

“Rest, Mr. Zheng,” Becenti ordered, “Have some food. This is all very new to you, I know.”

He made for the door, stopping for a moment to give Joseph another appraising, stone-like look.

“It was to me.”

And he closed the door.

“What do you mean, it was to you?!” Joseph yelled. He heard nothing on the other side, however – not even Becenti's footsteps going up the stairs. He gave an exhausted, dark look at the door, but his question - more of an accusation - went unanswered.