Summer, 666 BCE, English Channel

  IN THE BRIGHT, windless skies over the small channel separating Prydein from the main continent, the only breath of air to touch the agate wyrm came from his own passage through the sky and the flapping of his wings. Which he did with furious abandon.

  What were those idiots thinking?

  A dastardly possibility occurred to him.

  Could it be? he wondered. Might Baalhalllu have insured the majority of them would agree? But how would he do it? Surely, the platinum would not use a threat of violent force. Such has never been his way.

  Sura pushed the thought away. It didn’t matter. Regardless of how the platinum had managed it, he had gained almost unanimous support for his plan.

  With nearly everyone voting against him, Sura had been forced to go along with the idiocy.

  Let the imbeciles go to sleep, then, he thought. Undoubtedly, at least some of them will be found and destroyed by Jorrduliannsa’s dragon slayers. But no matter. They can sleep all they want. It will not affect my plans in the slightest.

  A twinge of guilt pulled on his heart. He did not wish harm on his fellows, not truly. Death at a dragon slayer’s hands was not a fate he would wish on any dragon. Not even a platinum.

  It was clear to him that a massive number of them had been compelled in some way to go along with the plan. Compelled in what way, he couldn’t begin to guess. But the more Sura thought through his plans, the more he was convinced this whole situation could work to his benefit in the end.

  In the end. That is the key. Think long term. It will likely take centuries to bring to fruition, but when it’s ready, there will be none who can stop me!

  With that thought, his blood finally cooled and he relaxed the pumping of his wings a bit. Slowing his pace to something more natural, he considered his plans again, searching for flaws or weaknesses in the strategy.

  When it came right down to it, the biggest difficulty he needed to overcome was ensuring one of his minions would be inducted into the new order of The Watchers when the Long Sleep was enacted.

  There was no possible way The Council would allow him to be among them, that much was obvious. He had been much too vocal in his desire to go to war. He would have to work through agents unknown to the Council to make his will done.

  Balhamuut, he thought. He won’t be selected as one of the Watchers either, but he could help to ensure someone loyal to me does become one.

  Yes, the idea had merit. Plus it gave him the opportunity to test the young platinum’s loyalty. Something which was very much in question after the fiasco of the Council.

  But who could he select as one of the new Watchers? This was the immediate question he needed to answer. Who could he trust with it?

  He went down his mental list of potential candidates. No one who openly supported him was an option, as The Council would never allow it. Which left him with…

  A very short list.

  * * * * *

  With an abruptness which startled the few denizens of the swamp into scattering, Sura came in to land at the entrance to his lair. Rolling onto his back, he squirmed against a rotting root beneath the surface of a black pool to scratch at an itch beneath his scales.

  Sated at last, he stood again and an idea came to him. It was so simple, he wondered that he hadn’t thought of it before. How could he have missed it?

  The pyrite.

  Pyrite dragons occupied such a strange place in draconic society, this one not least of all. There were so few of them that they couldn’t form their own communities and their place so near the line which divided metallics from stone dragons only made their positions that much more precarious.

  Sura smiled. He had never thought to have an opportunity to collect on the debt owed him by the pyrite, but this was a prime opportunity for it.

  Climbing back to a standing position, he leaped into the air and flew to the south-east post-haste. With how little time he had left, he would need to put this plan into effect quickly.

  The winter solstice was the day. The Council, along with their hundred most trusted wyrms, would send out their power to compel all dragons to sleep. All his plans had to be settled long before then. The Council would finalize everything at least a month beforehand. If he was to get the pyrite into the ranks of the Watchers, it would have to be done before then.

  How will they do it? he wondered.

  It was only natural, of course, that Baalhalllu and The Council did not disclose their exact method in front of all the assembled wyrms. They would want it kept secret so none could find a way to thwart their plans. The last thing they wanted was to have a few rogue dragons running about while the rest slept.

  But they didn’t know about the Dragon Scepter. Surely, its powers could keep him from succumbing to the arcane might of The Council and those who would help them. If anything could keep him awake, it would be the Dragon Scepter.

  But what about the lost ones? He wondered. Kaiyutaulliaund, Siigorriiuud, and the others who have vanished over the centuries. Will it force them to sleep as well?

  It was an interesting question, but unfortunately it was one to which he had no ready answer.

  Chhry’stuulliound, he sent, trying to reach the wyrm ahead of his arrival in the pyrite’s realm.

  There was no response.

  * * * * *

  The flight across the lush, vibrant greenery turned Vordillainsura’s stomach.

  He snorted in an attempt to eject the stench from his nostrils. How could the pyrite stand all this greenery? The scent of vibrant life, utterly lacking in decay and putrescence was sickening. Vegetation should be black, rotting, and waterlogged.

  Shaking his head in bemused wonder, Sura raced past the stinking, steaming vegetation to the mountain range near the southern sea where the pyrite made his lair.

  At least the stone of the mountains was properly dark, warm, and moist, even if it did emit the stinking scent of green and of life.

  He dropped to the stone floor just outside the entrance to the cave. With a trumpeting call to announce his presence, he stepped inside the cave.

  The interior was dark and gloomy, but a few degrees cooler than the hot, summer air outside.

  “What are you doing here, agate?” hissed a soft, menacing voice.

  “Careful who you speak to in that tone,” Sura breathed, his voice laced with dangerous calm.

  A sharp intake of breath sounded from the other end of the chamber.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Sura nodded. “That’s right. Now you know me.”

  A soft, scraping sound reached his auditory receptors, as though a small dragon were scrambling up from the floor. “My apologies, friend Sura.” The voice was all respect now. “But my question stands. What are you doing here?”

  Sura snarled. “You’d know that if you hadn’t closed your mind to contact.”

  Another soft scrape suggested a shrug.

  “Release the darkness,” Sura hissed. Instantly, the shadowed sunlight poured into the cavern, revealing a deep chamber. At its end stood a diminutive pyrite wyrm with scales that shimmered in the sunlight, seeming to constantly shift between gold and silver.

  But he was tiny! The pyrite had always been a small dragon for his age, but he had shrunk since the last time they’d met. At a guess, Sura supposed the creature was perhaps a touch over half the length he had been.

  How had that happened? Was it an unexpected side effect of the power they had discovered?

  “What happened to you?” Sura breathed.

  Now that he thought of it, he didn’t remember seeing the pyrite at the council. Was this why? Had he mistaken the creature for a wyrmling? Or simply missed him altogether on account of his inexplicable small size?

  The pyrite screwed up his face in obvious distaste. “I should think that’s rather obvious.”

  Sura shrugged. “I suppose we should have expected side effects. Any idea how or why?”

  The small dragon barked a high, sharp laugh. “Not specifically, no. My best guess is it’s my Apex balancing things.”

  “Balancing? So the rest was effective?”

  The bitter, distasteful expression vanished from the pyrite’s visage and he smiled, his yellowing teeth making the expression look feral and vicious. “Oh, yes.”

  Sura nodded. “So it was worth it.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Every bit. And so much more!”

  “And yet, you’re hiding here in the dark,” Sura said dryly.

  The pyrite’s vicious smile widened. “Playing possum for those who think my size makes me weak.”

  Sura laughed, deep and throaty, for a long time. All the while, Chrys held his grin and even chuckled a bit himself.

  Once the chuckles subsided a while later, Sura blanked his expression, all serious business once more. “I’m glad you’re pleased. Now it’s time to repay that debt.”

  “Debt?”

  “Yes, sand for brains. Your debt.”

  “And what debt would that be?”

  Sura ground his teeth. “The one you owe me for helping you unlock this new power!”

  “Is that so?”

  Sura had to tamp down on his anger. If this miserable creature was trying to renege on their bargain, he would make the sniveling little wyrmling rue the day they ever crossed paths. “Chhry’stuulliound, mark me, I’m not playing games here. You agreed to owe me a favor after I helped you discover the secret.”

  The pyrite flashed an easy grin. Perhaps a bit too easy. “Of course, my friend. Of course. What can I do?”

  In that instant, the combative air vanished as though it had never been and the pyrite seemed almost his old carefree self again.

  Sura, now thoroughly suspicious, made a show of lowering his guard and opened his wings wide to accept whatever the younger dragon might send.

  The pyrite raised his brow ridges ever so slightly.

  Sura swallowed a frustrated sigh. “I have a task for you. The Council has voted, as I’m sure you’re aware–“

  “Naturally.”

  “You know the whole plan?”

  “Near enough.”

  Sura nodded. “Including The Watchers?”

  “Especially them.”

  “Good,” Sura said. “Then you probably know of at least some of my plans as well.”

  The pyrite smiled a bit wider.

  Sura sighed. He was growing less and less fond of the creature before him. What happened to the predictable, readable wyrm he had once known? “Long story short, I need you to be one of those Watchers. I’ll explain on the way, though. We have little time. There will be much you must remember.”

  * * * * *

  Time passed much more quickly than Sura would have liked.

  After turning the pyrite over to Balhamuut for training and to familiarize themselves with one another— a necessary thing for him to recommend the pyrite as a Watcher —Vordillainsura had been left with little to do apart from waiting and preparing.

  Almost immediately, he returned to his lair in Gaul and used the power of the Scepter to aid in forming protections around his dwelling.

  While he thought it unlikely, he had to protect against the possibility of human, or other, incursion should he end up succumbing to the Sleep along with the others.

  To that end, he formed arcane illusions and other defenses to ensure humans would never find or accidentally enter his lair and used similar defenses to ensure no wyrm save Chhry’stuulliound could even find his lair, much less enter.

  “By the Lady of Chaos,” he breathed as he realized what he was doing. “I pray trusting the pyrite is not a mistake.”

  His efforts finally complete, down to the last detail, he lay down to rest. The day of The Sleep was fast approaching, yet still he had heard no word from Balhamuut as to the acceptance or rejection of the pyrite as a Watcher.

  Nervousness gnawed at him, preventing him from sleeping. Baalhalllu trusted his wyrmling, there could be no doubt of that. The platinum was as ill-suited to deception as any wyrm Sura had ever known. Surely, one of them would have noticed if the older platinum suspected the younger. Or even if he mistrusted him in any way.

  Yet Sura couldn’t escape the feeling that something would go horribly wrong and all his plans would be for naught. Surely, something would go wrong.

  Stop this! he commanded silently. Your plans are as well-formed as they could possibly be. It will work. You will succeed.

  * * * * *

  Flapping wings woke him from his slumber. Chill wind blew into his lair from above, bringing with it the briny scent of cold swamp water.

  Sura took a deep breath, savoring the delicious flavor of the wind.

  The flapping outside ceased and a deep, rumbling voice echoed down. “Sura?”

  With a deep sigh, Sura almost wished the platinum had tried to enter his lair.

  Reaching forward with claws outstretched, he arched his back in a stretch. His spine popped in a hundred different places and he breathed a genuine sigh of contentment.

  After a moment, he picked himself up from the cave floor and walked up the long corridor out of his lair.

  Thrusting his head out of the hidden cave entrance, he imagined himself appearing as just a head and upper portion of a neck, which vanished into the empty space below as though severed. He almost laughed. “What is it?”

  The young platinum drew himself up. “All the plans are set. The Long Sleep will commence tomorrow at midday and your friend, the pyrite, will be in the fourth rotation of The Watchers.

  “The fourth?” Sura growled, incredulous. “That’s of so little–“

  “I don’t want to hear it, Sura. I did all I could. Count yourself lucky he got in at all. My sire didn’t want him. Said he wanted only those he knew were loyal to The Council. It took a lot of glib talking on my part to convince him that Chrys would be loyal to him and all would be well.”

  Sura smiled. The situation was less than ideal, of course, but he had no true complaints about the outcome. “Fourth, though,” he mused.

  The platinum sighed. “It was the best I could do.”

  Sura widened his smile. “It will suffice. How long did you say The Watchers’ cycles are? A century?”

  “Half.”

  “So Chhry’stuulliound will be wakened one-hundred-fifty years from the commencement?”

  “Correct.”

  Sura nodded, thoughtful. “That should work. It will give me time to arrange things before he wakes.”

  The platinum’s eyes widened. “You don’t plan to Sleep?”

  Sura scoffed. “Of course not. I’ve been against this plan from the start. Why would I let them force me into succumbing to this idiocy?”

  The platinum shrugged. “How do you plan to circumvent it? Surely, they must have plans in place for any who might think to prevent themselves from Sleeping.”

  “Of course they do. For all that Baalhalllu does some stupid things, he is not a fool. They will structure the ritual in such a way that it overcomes all foreseeable defenses.”

  Balhamuut nodded. “Foreseeable?”

  “Of course. There is no chance of them knowing about the Dragon Scepter. Well, certainly not that it has resurfaced and most assuredly not that I have it in my possession. It is my key.”

  The platinum nodded thoughtfully. “That makes sense.”

  “Where will you go?”

  “I have a lair prepared. The pyrite knows where it is, so when you two are ready for me to awaken, he can find me.”

  Sura almost laughed, but settled for a snide grin. It seemed the distrust between the two of them was mutual and close to equal.

  He looked up to the western horizon, where Ryujin’s Blaze hung just above the sea. “You should go. You have scant hours remaining before the commencement.”

  * * * * *

  Sura finished his last-moment enchantments just as light from Ryujin’s Blaze began peeking through the entrance to his cave. The Winter Solstice had come.

  Just in time, he thought.

  He couldn’t be certain of the time of day the ritual would be performed. The plan had been for midday, but he knew all too well how easily plans changed.

  Forcing the frustrations from his mind, he waited.

  Impatience will gain you nothing, he reminded himself.

  Scant minutes after midday, with Ryujin’s Blaze at its zenith in the sky, the light and heat at their peak on the coldest, darkest, shortest day of the year, a slight tingle tickled at the back of Sura’s mind.

  He frowned.

  Even through his defenses, he had expected more. Was The Council truly so weak? Did they even have the power to do as they had proposed?

  He shrugged, pushing the question away. It didn’t matter, after all. Even with how weak The Council’s power seemed, how weak the sensation in his mind was, he was better off using the power of the Scepter to defend against it. Just in case.

  Taking up the Dragon Scepter, Sura reached into his Apex and drew out a massive river of power. He split it into a plethora of streams, which he used to blanket himself in a shell of anti-magic, to prevent any magical power from touching him.

  It took several minutes to form, but once complete there would surely be no way through it. Nothing Sura could fathom had the power to overcome such a defense.

  Arcane power came then and struck the barrier. First little more than a trickle, but growing stronger with each passing moment. A burst of electricity seemed to slam into the barrier then dissipate as so much static. With explosive force, the attack renewed and it pounded through the defenses he’d built into his lair as though they didn’t exist. The power hammered at the shell around him, crushing through it and slamming into his soul.

  Vordillainsura shrieked in agony. Never before had he felt such power. Such strength. The overwhelming destructive force behind it was beyond anything he had ever imagined.

  In an instant his protective barrier crumbled and Sura felt himself tumbling down into the eternal darkness of dreamless sleep…