Morgan stood before the large, bronze-colored double doors that Tiladia had led him to. “These are the only doors I cannot pass by or see beyond,” she said, moving her crystal-shard parts in a slowly oscillating spiral.

“So that’s where the final guardian is, hmm?” He stepped up to the door and put an ear against the cool metal. He didn’t hear anything other than the faint background hum that seemed ever-present in the tower’s structure.

“Yes, though I have no information about it.”

Morgan pulled up his quest from so long ago, taking a look at the wording:

***Quest: Defeat the guardians of Vormendion’s Iron Tower 7/8. Reward: Access to each guardian’s level and Vormendion’s Reliquary.***

He laughed when he saw the old System message, and Tiladia made a questioning sound. “It’s weird—when I got this tower and set it up, I wasn’t surprised that the System gave me the quest to explore it and fight the guardians. Back then, I thought the System was constantly watching me, judging me, and giving me opportunities to, oh, I don’t know, prove myself or fail to do so. Since those early days when I was in the Crucible, though, I’ve hardly heard from the System. If it weren’t for me gaining levels, I’d almost forget it was there.”

“The System is not omniscient—there are limits to its ability to focus on multiple beings or locations in its controlled space,” Tiladia said, once again surprising Morgan with her breadth of knowledge.

“What, seriously? It seems pretty much everywhere all the time to me. Like if thirty people gained a level at once in First Landing, the System would know to give them all their level-up message.”

“Those are automated activities. When you were new to Fanwath, the System was probably fully conscious of you. Only as it became familiar with you and your people and the things you were capable of did its focus shift. Does it bother you that the System is not consciously focusing on you now?”

“No, not really. I mean, honestly, I’d rather not be watched all the time.”

“That is wise, Morgan. When the System brought its focus upon my world, we fought it. Dragons had been masters of Energy long before the youngling System thought to try to control us.”

“Were you successful?”

“Oh yes. We rebuffed the System and its attempts. It was younger then, and I’ve been away for millennia, but I would wager that my people still freely roam the skies of Aradnue.”

“That’s your homeworld, right?”

“Yes, the mountains and moons of Aradnue are home to my people, though we’ve spread to a hundred thousand worlds.”

“But Aradnue is the first home of dragons? And you lived there?”

“That’s correct!” Tiladia spun and flipped in the air, taking on her misty dragon form.

“That’s incredible. Did you say your people flew around the moons?”

“Yes, Morgan! I used to lead my sisters on merry chases between the moons and down to the high peaks.”

“So you could fly through space?”

“It was trivial for an elder dragon—I could create currents of Energy that made even the highest peaks seem calm in comparison!”

“And I’m guessing the temperature and lack of air didn’t bother you, huh?”

“That’s right!” Tiladia spun again, this time whirling around Morgan in a circle.

“I wonder if I could learn something like that. I’d like to fly up there and see if our ship is still around.”

“There are dozens, no, hundreds of races that have learned to use Energy currents to fly through space, Morgan. I’m sure you could learn something, especially since you’ve already gained the gift of flight! I knew you were special when I first met you!”

“Really, Tiladia?”

“Well, I hoped. The truth is, you were the first person I’d spoken to, other than some of the guardians in the tower, since Vormendion left.”

“Yeah, that sounds more like it,” Morgan chuckled. “Well, I’m going to see what’s behind this door.” Morgan stepped forward, drawing Bloodfang, and readying his mind for a fight. “Maybe stand back or something? I don’t know.” Tiladia didn’t say anything, but her ethereal, tinkling form spun in another loop and then faded away toward the stairwell. “Here goes,” Morgan said, putting his hand on the large, round push plate at the edge of the left-hand door. He gave it a good shove, and the door swung silently inward.

The door’s arcing swing revealed an ever-broadening swath of the room beyond—an oval chamber of gilt wood, rich marble flooring, and a high domed, plaster ceiling. The far wall wasn’t a wall so much as the wall of a metal cage, beyond which Morgan could see rich furniture, overflowing bookcases and shelves, racks of weapons, piles of rugs and furs, and display cases filled with ornamented dishes and glassware.

Standing before the brass-colored cage door was a naked, man-shaped being, probably eight feet tall and molded from tan-colored flesh that was smooth and devoid of blemish. Its arms were long, enormous fingers and claws nearly touching the marble floor, and its face was without expression, marred only by two slits for a nose and two black marbles for eyes. It was utterly motionless, though Morgan had the feeling those smooth black marbles were taking him in. “Creepy,” he said, moving his eyes up and down the smooth, fleshy being, more bothered by its lack of genitalia than he thought was probably reasonable.

So far, the fleshy monster hadn’t moved, and Morgan wondered if the encounter wouldn’t commence until he stepped into the room. He’d already tried to get Issa to come up to the tower's eighth floor, but she couldn’t traverse the stairs past level seven. “So, I’m on my own, just like every other guardian,” Morgan mused aloud. It didn’t matter if he had to step into the vault antechamber to start the encounter, he was the only person with a physical body on this floor, and it would remain so until he won.

He took a step back from the door and contemplated the guardian. Was he ready to fight it? Issa had given him her tacit approval, indicating that she trusted his judgment when he said he was coming up to locate the final warden of the tower. What if he died up here? The only being that would be able to look upon his corpse would be Tiladia. She’d no doubt let Issa know what happened, but it would surely end his career as an adventuring champion of humanity with a sad little fizzle. “You’re not going to kill me, are you? I’m going to go in there and beat the tar out of you.”

Morgan squeezed Bloodfang’s hilt, feeling how the rough, absorbent leather fit the contours of his callouses. He’d grown more and more familiar with the weapon over the course of his exile on the icy planet and in its mysterious dungeon. Not only had he killed countless Rehavash, but he’d sparred for seemingly endless hours with Bronwyn. The heavy broadsword felt like an extension of his arm, and he knew the blade was stronger and sharper than any other weapon he’d seen, save maybe the blade that Swordmaster, Von-dak, had used. “But he gave me you as the price for the flesh of my own arm. That’s got to mean something, right?” Morgan asked the silent weapon.

Not for the first time, Morgan was glad the sword didn’t speak to him. He could only imagine the types of things it would say, and he didn’t relish having a bloodthirsty berserker spirit growling murderous thoughts directly into his mind. Still, he liked the sword—sharp and true, it had never failed to cut his enemies, and it had resisted the attempts of mighty creatures to break or bend it. Morgan caught himself thinking about how much he liked his sword and shook his head ruefully. What was he doing? Stalling?

“Yep,” he said to himself and the silent flesh monster. “If I’m going to be the champion of this budding civilization, I’ll need to be the master of my own home, don’t you think?” Morgan pulled his helmet out of his storage ring, put it on his head, and waved his hand in front of his face, sliding the visor down. Completely encased in the shining, reflective Moonsteel armor, Bloodfang in hand, he stepped into the circular antechamber of his tower’s reliquary and watched as the lanky flesh monster quivered and came to life.

#

“He’s started the battle, Miss Issa,” Tiladia said softly from the doorway. Issa paced back and forth in the music room of the tower, trying to keep herself occupied because she knew Morgan would do what Tiladia had just confirmed. He’d said he was going to “check out” the eighth guardian, but Issa had known what that meant. She had to come to terms with the fact that Morgan had grown significantly while he’d been away on the invaders’ world. No, not the invaders’ world, the one after it, and the dungeon therein. It didn’t matter—he’d already been outpacing her due to his high affinity, and now he was more than double her level.

“He’s strong enough, don’t you think, Tiladia?”

“He’s stronger than anyone I’ve ever met at his level. He’s not as powerful as Vormendion, but the old master didn’t expect someone to match his power just to unlock the tower. I think Morgan has what it takes to conquer the eighth guardian, though my knowledge of the final guardian is nonexistent.”

“He’s like no one else on this world, Tiladia. He’ll win. I have to accept that he’ll be going places and taking risks that I can’t help him with. His growth is beyond anything my people have seen, even the legends of heroes like Asyr-dak or the Crag Queen.”

“The mate that stays with the hatchlings makes a sacrifice paid for in blessings the fighting mate cannot fathom.” Tiladia swooped closer to Issa, performing a double loop in her misty dragon shape.

“You have children, Tiladia?”

“Yes! Seven from three different broods. My first time, I grew to resent my hatchlings because I saw the battles my mate participated in and how his scales thickened and shimmered with the metals he ate. Still, after my daughters took wing and began to bring home prizes, who do you think they showered their affections upon? Not Yong the Dread Horn!”

“Yong the Dread Horn?” Issa couldn’t keep the amusement out of her voice.

“Oh yes! His nose horn was long and deadly! Many met their ends, thrashing their guts out upon it.”

“Ancestors!” Issa’s amusement was instantly replaced by horror. She changed the subject, “Can you see how Morgan is doing?”

“No, I’m sorry. The door closed when the fight commenced. I cannot bypass it or hear anything from within.”

“I hate this. Let’s go to the atrium! Talk of your hatchlings has me wanting to see some children, and Ykleedra has four of them!” Issa walked with purpose out of the music room, through the landing hall, and into the bright, green atrium. The plants were so foreign to her—not a single leaf or blade of grass was blue. Still, she loved the fresh smell of the air and the soothing sounds of the brook that babbled through the middle of the space.

A rustle in the nearby ferns announced Ykleedra’s presence, and she poked her head out to ask, “Is something wrong, Miss Issa? You seem troubled.”

“Morgan is battling with the final guardian. I was hoping to see your sisters, Ykleedra—some new life would do wonders to distract me.”

“Of course, Miss Issa! Please wait, and I’ll bring them up.” Ykleedra ducked back into the ferns, and Issa heard her scurry away toward her burrow. Moments later, she heard her coming closer, speaking in soft clicks and coos. Then she emerged from the ferns, one tentacle trailing behind her, clasped tightly around another smaller tentacle. Then her sisters appeared, one after the other, in a little train, each holding tightly to the one behind.

Issa’s eyes filled with tears at the sight of the little creatures sweetly holding onto each other, staring around with big, liquid black eyes, ducking and jostling to hide behind their big sister. “Oh, sweeties, don’t hide from me. I’m not here to hurt you!” Issa said, crouching low and reaching out with her hand. Tiladia made similar sounds, taking on her dragon shape but slinking along the ground with a gentle chiming melody. “Can they understand me, Ykleedra?”

“They can’t speak yet, but they’re learning some words. Pkril is the most vocal—she likes to ask for ‘more’ whenever I feed them. She’s the one with the red in her hair. Ykerli is the opposite. She’s the quiet little one that’s still hiding in the ferns. Come here, you little hidgii! Miss Issa wouldn’t hurt you!” Ykleedra snaked out another tentacle and wrapped it around her littlest sister’s long foreleg, tugging at it.

“They’re adorable, YKleedra! You’ve done such a wonderful job with them so far! Speaking of which, I heard Morgan offered to have you a home built in here. Has any work been done yet?”

“No, but a lady named Mrs. Washington came to do something called a survey.”

“Yes, I gave her entry permission at Morgan’s request,” Tiladia said, still tinkling around on the ground near one of the young Yovashi.

Issa lost track of her worries while she sat on the grass in the atrium, getting to know Ykleedra’s sisters. She was so engrossed with them that she’d almost, but not quite, forgotten about Morgan’s challenge. She was holding onto a smooth, gray tentacle, trying to get the sister named Gvon to say, “Issa,” when a tremendous gong sounded, seeming to reverberate through the metal shell of the tower.

The ground shook, the ferns and trees in the atrium quivered, and the artificial sun dimmed and brightened. Tiladia, who’d left at some point during Issa’s visit, streaked into the atrium, larger, brighter, and more dragon-like than Issa had ever seen, and announced, “It’s over!”