Winter, 2064 CE, south-western English Channel

  A SLIVER OF silvery light from Tiamat’s Eye above reflected from Kwallindauria’s metallic scales as she plunged into the icy waters of the Mare Gallicum, which separated Iberia from Prydein and Hibernia.

  How many times have those islands been conquered and renamed since we left the world to the Humans? she wondered.

  “I’ve watched those islands change hands at least five times in the century I’ve been here,” Graayyyavalllia had said once, centuries before the Long Sleep.

  How long did we Sleep? she wondered again. Even after her flight more than halfway across the globe, pulling information from nearly every human mind she passed, she still hadn’t found a definite answer.

  A millennium? Two? Who knows what else has changed in that time. If the surface of the Earth herself has changed, what other radical changes might there be? Humans change more quickly than we shed scales, after all.

  She swam down through numerous schools of fish, the dazzling colors of their scales flashing in her peripheral vision. She went wide of several pods of orca and other porpoises, but intentionally swam as near to the few sharks she saw as they would allow. Seeing the powerful tails of such predators slicing through the water to a rapid escape brought a grin of pure joy to her lips.

  Down she went, passing octopuses and other cephalopods, reefs of coral, and other, stranger organisms until she reached the layer humans incorrectly considered the bottom of the ocean. It was a thick layer of silt that had compacted over eons to form an ocean floor that only a creature with the strength of a dragon could push through.

  She plunged into the silty soil and continued to propel herself downward through the muck. It felt slimy and filthy on her scales, much more so than it had the last time she’d been down here. What were the Humans putting into the ocean?

  At last, her snout pushed through the deepest layer of the filthy muck and into the inky-black waters of The Deeps. The water here was a few degrees warmer than that above the silt layer, owing to a cascade of deep sea hydrothermal vents that spewed super-heated liquid into the depths. Life down here had evolved to depend on the chemicals vented in rather than the light of Ryujin’s Blaze.

  Even now, she couldn’t help marveling at the resilience of the lifeforms that survived down here.

  Downward she went, cleaving to the wall of the trench. In minutes, she reached the marker she sought. A boulder carved in the shape of a dragon’s head, lodged into the rock wall of the trench one-thousand-seven-hundred-fifty wingspans beneath the surface.

  Planting her hind legs against the trench wall, she thrust her foreclaws around the edges of the boulder and heaved. After a moment, she was rewarded with a thunderous crack.

  A torrent of air bubbles surged past her on their way to the silt layer above.

  Reversing her grip on the boulder, she backed into the opening and replaced the boulder. Although there was almost no chance of this place being found by anyone other than a dragon who knew exactly what they were looking for, it was better not to take chances.

  She turned to face the water tunnel and began the swim toward its end.

  With perfect clarity, she noted nothing had changed in the tunnel since her last visit. The rock walls were featureless and unmarred, having never been worked by human tools.

  Over her minutes’ long swim through the tunnel, she noticed the water growing warmer. That was new. It hadn’t done that when she’d helped create this sanctuary.

  Another minute down the tunnel and the water no longer carried the icy chill of the upper portions of the deeps. The rising heat of the water, reminiscent of that much closer to the hydrothermal vents, warmed her blood, bolstering her flagging energy.

  The tunnel banked sharply upward and within another minute her head broke the surface of the warm water.

  The hidden lake beached on a rocky island less than two wingspans from her and was lit by a dull, ruddy glow from the far rear of the cavern. The island was long, easily two-hundred wingspans, but less than five in width. And it was empty. There were no signs of life.

  Curious. Did she choose to lair elsewhere at the last moment?

  Seems unlikely, she answered herself. Why would she leave the boulder in its place at the entrance?

  She swam to the rocky beach and crept up the ledge onto the island. She looked around again, but still saw no sign of anything living.

  She moved toward the back of the cavern. Although her talons gripped the rock without difficulty, she felt as though her claws were slipping across the saltwater-moistened stone.

  The scent of sulfur came to her nostrils and she smiled. That had to be Graayyya. Was she awake after all? She’d thought the Watchers had to have already visited her friend, but if that was true, where was she?

  She turned a bend at the back of the cavern and came face-to-face with the source of the glow, a flowing river of magma. The heat of it slammed into her, a mallet of warmth and pleasure hitting her full in the face.

  Glorious!

  But where was Graayyya?

  An odd tinkle sounded above her and before she knew what was happening, a tremendous weight slammed her body to the stony floor.

  She struggled to rise, but the immense weight was too much for her. Something hard and sharp pierced the scales of her flanks and she felt twin trickles of blood dripping down the soft flesh of her underbelly. She tried to cry out, but sharp talons gripped her neck, piercing the flesh. Sword-like fangs glided across the scales of the back of her neck.

  “One wrong move, platinum,” the soft voice hissed with deadly calm, but spoke her breed-name in disgust. “And no one will ever find your body.”

  Dauria offered a slight nod.

  “What are you doing in my lair?”

  “I came,” Dauria rasped around the talons in her neck, “To find my old friend, Graayyyavalllia.”

  The claws at her neck loosened slightly. “How does a platinum wyrm know that name?” the voice took on a menacing air.

  What?

  Dauria turned her head toward the voice, as far as she could without shearing her flesh on the sharp talons embedded in her neck. “Graayyya? Is that you? Do you truly not know your old friend Kwallindauria?”

  “I would never befriend a metallic!” the garnet wyrm spat.

  “Graayyya, if that be true, then how do I know you? How did I find your lair?”

  “Excellent questions,” the garnet said pointedly.

  Dauria sighed. “It would seem, my old friend, that we have reached a bit of an impasse. I know you. Because we have been close friends for centuries. We fought in the wars together. We were in agreement— us and many others —when the time came to abandon the Earth and the Humans to their fates. We helped mould the plans which became the Long Sleep. I helped you find and shape this lair. Yet, inexplicably, you do not remember me. So what happens now?”

  “If you will not speak truth then you die, here and now!” the larger wyrm snarled.

  Kwallindauria sighed again. “Graayyya–“

  “Stop using my name as though we are familiar!”

  “But we are. I’ve known you for centuries.”

  The garnet dragon growled deep in her chest, but Dauria ignored it.

  “Whether or not you remember enough to believe it does not change the fact, Graayyyavalllia. I know you because we’ve been friends near to kin for centuries. I helped you to manage your Celts with something less than an iron claw, and you taught me that sometimes my Jōmon needed a war. Sometimes one needed to be invented for their benefit, even if it wasn’t wholly justified. Because that was what they needed. I know you, Graayyyavalllia. Nearly as well as I know myself.”

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  “I never needed any metallic’s help–”

  “But you did! Discipline you understood! War you understood! But leniency? Compassion? Such things do not come naturally to the dragons of stone. You know this! You had to learn those traits. From me!”

  Graayyya faltered. “I… I don’t…”

  “How can you not remember?”

  The talons in Dauria’s neck loosened further and she turned her head around to look her old friend in the eyes.

  She froze, utterly shocked at the creature before her.

  Graayyyavalllia was a pale shadow of her former self. Her gaunt cheeks were sunken into her narrow face, the lustrous, golden eyes had become a dull yellow. Her flesh hung loosely from her body and once-glossy, iridescent scales were flat and almost colorless.

  “What happened to you?” Kwallindauria breathed. How does a wyrm come to look like this? she added silently.

  Dull, orange lips curled back from yellowed teeth in a sneer. “Oh, yes. That’s right,” the voice dripped with scorn. “Tear down the tired garnet dragon to diminish your own inadequacy. Such simple, predictable things you metallics are.”

  “Graayyyavalllia, I do not mock and I do not make light. I’ve never seen a dragon in your physical condition and I’m concerned for you.”

  The orange dragon scoffed. “Concerned? For me? Don’t make me laugh! You metallics are never concerned for anything beyond your own shiny, perfect hides!”

  “No, Graayyya. I am concerned for you,” Kwallindauria said sadly. “Very much so. Please. Allow me to help you discover what has happened to you and how we can reverse it. Please!”

  Something in the larger wyrm’s stony facade cracked. The hardness in her eyes eased and her sneer faltered.

  “I… I don’t understand,” she said slowly. “Why would you care?”

  “You have been my closest confidant for centuries, Graayyyavalllia. How could I not? I know you don’t remember any of that, but we’re going to help you to do so. We will recover your lost memories.”

  “I truly hope you are correct,” Graayyya said, her voice distracted, as she withdrew her talons from Dauria’s body and moved off of her.

  Kwallindauria stood and stretched her cramped muscles. Being trapped beneath a wyrm so much larger than herself and unable to move for talons in her throat was not an experience she intended to repeat.

  With a shake of her head, Dauria looked over her old friend more closely.

  To say the garnet did not look good would have been an understatement on a grand scale. What was the human expression, Understatement of the century? She found it decidedly inadequate. Aloud, she said, “When was the last time you dipped into the river of magma?”

  “Too long.”

  “Then it is time. Go ahead and go for a swim. When you’re done, we’ll discuss our options.”

  Graayyya nodded her great head and strode into the river of magma at the rear of her lair, while Kwallindauria brooded in silence.

  * * * * *

  “I still don’t remember any of this,” Graayyya said in frustration.

  “I know,” Dauria sighed. “How long were you awake before I came to you?”

  Graayyya opened her maw, then hesitated. After a moment, she said, “I’m not certain. Weeks, perhaps?”

  “Weeks?” Dauria asked, incredulous.

  Graayyya briefly cocked her head to the left. I don’t know, the movement clearly communicated.

  “I see. What woke you?”

  “Rage,” the garnet wyrm breathed.

  Dauria’s brow ridges furrowed. “I don’t follow.”

  Graayyya stared, her expression blank. After several moments, she said, “I really can’t explain it.” She paused, then added, “Kwallindauria,” as though tasting the name for the first time.

  The sound of her name from her beloved friend’s lips sent a thrill of pleasure through her.

  Tamping down on the emotion to focus on the here and now, she asked, “Can you describe your exact thoughts and sensations? As much as you can remember, from just before waking onward?”

  “I will try,” Graayyya said, then fell silent.

  Patience. She needs time. This must all be an infernal shock.

  The larger wyrm furrowed her brow ridges and bowed her head, eyes darting from side to side. When she looked up, her muscles clenched beneath her quivering scales and she squeezed her eyes closed.

  When the garnet lids finally snapped open, Dauria felt as though she were looking at the old Graayyyavalllia once more. The garnet stared into her eyes with surprising intensity.

  “I was dreaming,” she said, her voice steady and strong, “about the old conflicts with the Humans. Dragon slayers looking for fame, sages hunting for wisdom. The knights who blamed us for the disappearances of maidens and younglings. The wars that followed. The wanton destruction we wrought in defending ourselves against the human armies.”

  She sighed. “I know it didn’t happen this way, but in the dream I exulted in my power. I spewed a raging inferno on a massive human army, cooking them inside their suits of bronze and iron. I loved it!”

  Breathing heavily now, the garnet stopped and took several deep breaths. She seemed to be trying to calm herself.

  If anything, the intensity in Graayyya’s eyes increased as she continued in a breathy whisper. “But the rage overtook me. And the scent of cooking human flesh fueled my rage. Enhanced it. I wanted to seek out all of Humanity. I wanted to burn them! I wanted to kill them all!”

  Kwallindauria nodded, her expression carefully neutral.

  “When I woke, my rage burned hotter! I don’t know how long I thrashed, spewing flames, gouging at the stone, flinging magma from the molten river.” She paused for a moment, staring at Dauria. Her eyes glowed with golden light. “Understand, I’ve experienced rages before. Especially during the Dark Times before the Long Sleep. But I’ve never felt anything like this before. I was out of control. I couldn’t focus, couldn’t even think, really. I don’t know how long that went on.”

  Very strange, Dauria thought. “But you had obviously calmed somewhat by the time I arrived.”

  “Yes,” Graayyya said hesitantly. “Some.”

  “I find it curious that you remember the Dark Years, the wars, the battles, the human idiocy. Yet, you don’t remember me. Or your family.”

  “Agreed! But what do we do now?”

  “Well, since your other memories are largely unaffected, my purpose in being here appears to be unchanged. I came here seeking your wisdom, old friend.”

  The garnet wyrm’s brow ridges raised. “In what?”

  “I was wakened by The Watchers. The things they said are… disturbing,” Dauria said, then launched into the tale of everything she had been told about the destruction wrought on the Earth by Humanity.

  * * * * *

  “And the Watchers want… what?” Graayyya asked. “To start a war? To rain destruction down on the heads of the Humans with no regard for the damage we will cause to Mother Earth?”

  “So it would seem.”

  Graayyya shook her head. “This is not good.”

  “You always had a talent for understatement,” Dauria said with a sly grin.

  “Better than the alternative,” Graayyya murmured.

  “What are your thoughts?”

  “It all seems awfully convenient.”

  Dauria nodded.

  “Have you confirmed any of it?”

  “Some,” she said. “Japan still bears traces of the weapons they described. Many of the Earth’s national leaders are consumed with thoughts of war and conquest. There is undeniable damage to both the Earth and its natural defenses to the rays of Ryujin’s Blaze.”

  “Enough to warrant what the Watchers propose?”

  “I’m…” she hesitated. “I’m not certain. I feel that involvement in the form of leading them away from conflict in the guise of human advisors would be better. At least for now. I can’t help thinking that extreme actions the like of what the Watchers are proposing should be a last resort, fallen back on only after all other avenues have failed.”

  “In that, we are in agreement,” Graayyya said. “Where are The Watchers now?”

  “Waking the other Elders. I told them to assemble The Council.”

  Graayyya’s head shot up, her blazing eyes burning into Dauria.

  “What?”

  “Does it not strike you as odd that no Watcher has come to me? None have even attempted to breach my lair. Was I not counted among the Elders? Were there not at least some who considered me among the wisest of the Council before the Long Sleep?”

  “And one of the–“

  “Oh, no,” Kwallindauria cut her own thought off and leaped into the air, taking wing in a rush. Flying less than a wingspan beneath the ceiling of the cavern, she passed the edge of the island and tucked her wings tightly against her body before she plunged into the placid water at full speed.

  She spent a moment of concentrated thought to morph her form into that of the more traditional platinum serpent-dragon, sleek and sinewy. She slithered through the water at blinding speed.

  After little more than a minute, she reached the boulder sealing the water cavern.

  She slowed only slightly before she slammed into the boulder with a mind-numbing thud. It didn’t budge.

  Kwallindauria resumed her natural, almost humanoid, draconic form. With its greater physical strength, she swam out several wingspans from the boulder and swam toward it once more, packing every iota of her immense strength into the motion.

  Her shoulder crunched painfully into the stone, her teeth rattled in her skull. The wall of the cavern trembled, yet the boulder remained in its place covering the hole.

  Kwallindauria bared her teeth and growled deep in her chest. She roared her frustration, but the sound was obliterated by the sea water surrounding her.

  What am I doing? she thought. Brute force is not the way wyrms do things. Use your head, foolish dragon!

  Dauria closed her eyes, calming the rage in her blood, and focused her thoughts on the problem. She took several long, deep gulps of water, her body claiming the oxygen from it before expelling the fluid back into the cavern.

  Opening her eyes, she summoned arcane strength from her Apex. Carefully, she weaved the power into a molecule-thin net and wrapped it around the boulder, with the open end on the outside of the cavern. She spent many minutes strengthening the net, ensuring it would not break regardless of how much strain was placed upon it.

  With the construct ready, she pulled the net with all her metaphysical strength, yanking the boulder from its place in the cavern wall.

  The boulder shuddered, then leaned a claw-width from its place in the wall before it snapped back into place. The force of it thrust Kwallindauria backward, flipping her body end over end for nearly one-hundred wingspans before she righted herself.

  Despair clawed at the back of her mind.

  A reddish shadow passed overhead and Graayyyavalllia’s voice came into her mind. What is it, Dauria? What’s wrong?

  Dauria offered a telepathic huff. It is as I feared. We have been trapped here. I cannot move the boulder.

  But why?

  Can you think of no reason, Graayyya?

  By the Astral Dragon, you cannot be serious!

  Can’t I? Dauria asked.

  But why? Why would they want war? We nearly destroyed the Earth last time!

  My guess is a combination of boredom and indignation at being forced to leave the fate of Mother Earth in the hands of a species they see as inferior.

  Do you think they sabotaged all of the even-tempered elders? Graayyya asked.

  I’d say it’s a fair assumption.

  Is there anything we can do?

  Dauria emitted a sound somewhere between a grunt and a sigh. I think it likely they planned for anything the two of us could manage, but we can try pooling our efforts. Perhaps together we will have a chance…