Revaramek the Resplendent - Missing Chapter H

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Chapter H

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“It started with a dream.” Revaramek ran his paw up Nyra’s foreleg, brushing his fingers across a single scute. “That part remains the haziest, but…” He licked his nose. “It was dark. Empty. And there was song. Voices singing in some strange, otherworldly harmony. Until one of those rose louder than the others, like…some kind of counterpoint. It led me onwards, until I saw Korakos. With an urd’thin pup. They were singing, almost…” Revaramek tilted his head back, staring at the sky. “Against the other voices. The same song that once led me from the edge of death, and eventually to you.” He swallowed. “The pup was casting light, somehow. It emanated from him, until I saw Korakos was reading a book. And then…” He swallowed, struggling to glean the details from increasingly murky memories. “Then he was holding a star, and passing unto our son. Or…or was he older, then?”

Nyramyn’s ears flattened back, but she remained quiet and patient.

“I think he was older. The pup, I mean.” Revaramek’s paw stilled upon her limb. “He was grown, for a moment. He was Asterbury, again. But he wasn’t…” He clenched his jaw. “I don’t think he was there to hurt anyone. It was as if he was trying to help Korakos. They were in a ruin, then.”

Nyra lifted her muzzle from his neck. “A ruin? Like an old tower?”

“Maybe.” Revaramek glanced back at her. “Why?”

“You said Kor was reading a book?” Nyramyn canted her head. “There were old books in the tower where the gate was. Korakos might have gone to look at them while I was asleep. He activated the gate, somehow, right before the whole thing…” She shivered, her scales rustling.

“I know, Nyra, I know.” Revaramek stroked her scutes. “The important thing is you both made it here safely. And you might be right. It could have been that tower. I assumed it was just a dream, but…” He snapped his teeth. “When is it ever just a dream, or just a coincidence, when Asterbury is involved? Maybe that was the moment he put the idea of Star’s Blessing in Kor’s head. Keeping up his end of the bargain. But…” He stretched a wing, scratching his neck with the talon tipping it. “If that was the case, that means he can travel worlds freely, now. And if that’s true, then…where the hell is he? And why am I dreaming about it? Unless…” Revaramek slowly turned his head, staring at the Cathedral where Mirelle had carried his son. “Unless I’m not the one having the dream.”

Nyramyn’s frills shot up. “You think you saw Korakos’s dream?”

Revaramek turned his head to nose her. “You catch on quickly, my dear. But I’m not sure. Maybe.” He drummed claw tips against the blanket. “It did seem like I was an outsider, approaching them. As if I was just witnessing it, not participating. And…this wasn’t long after he’d tried to heal you, and our sparks became entwined. It’s…” He waggled his paw, chuckling. “Well, it’s as possible as anything else, I suppose.” Then he paused, splaying his ears. “But if that’s the case, then maybe it wasn’t me who heard the stars singing, but him. Maybe I only heard their song through Korakos.”

Nyramyn pulled her head back, her neck arching. “The stars did what now?”

“Oh, my love,” Revaramek said, smiling at her. “I did warn you this story would be highly unbelievable.”

“So, you did.” Nyra bumped him with her nose. “Go on, then.”

“After I awoke from the dream,” Revaramek said, gazing up at the sky. Already it was deep and blue, an azure shield behind which the myriad stars sought shelter. “I still heard the song. I thought I was imagining it, at first. But Korakos heard it too. And he told me, the stars were watching us.”

Nyra’s eyes widened. “Watching us?”

Revaramek nodded once. “Normally, I’d have taken it for mere hatchling imagination. But this was different. But before I could contemplate that too deeply…” His gaze drifted back to the tiny figures. “Korakos saw him.”

“Who?” Nyra’s eyes followed his. “Was it him?”

“I thought so, initially.” Revaramek stared at the diminutive urd’thin pup. “He was standing over the sand, staring down at it. I don’t know how I missed him, first. Or how long he’d been there. I can only assume we perceived him only when he wished us too. I bade Korakos to stay here, with you, and I rose, more than intent on giving him an extremely large piece of my mind. But as I neared him, I realized it wasn’t Asterbury at all.”

“Then who?” Nyra lifted her head, watching as the winds picked up and stirred a whirl of golden sand.

Revaramek shrugged his wings. “I’m still not totally sure, but…” He flattened his spines. “I think it was his father.” When Nyra did not immediately react, he held up a forepaw. “I realize that’s not as big a revelation to you as it will be to Mirelle. Suffice it to say that if I’m correct, the arrival of Asterbury’s father is extremely ominous and potentially terrifying.”

“More so, or less so, than Asterbury himself?”

“I’m not sure. But at least I’d know what expect from Asterbury. But the father…” Though he stared at the figurine, images from Vakaal’s life spun through his head. Asterbury had shown him horrifying memories, once. Memories of a loving father cut apart and put back together, again, and again. Until at last the father could see his son suffer no more, and gave his pup the key to unlocking their true identity. “He’s a god, Nyra, who sought to show restraint even to his captors, until at last there was no mercy left in him. And then he let his son become a monster.”

Nyra gently nosed at him. “You’re losing me, Rev.”

Revaramek glanced back at her. Confusion whirled in her faint golden eyes. Revaramek chuckled, and licked her nose. “Sorry, love. Perhaps the specifics of this conversation would be best discussed with Mirelle.”

Nyramyn nudged her nose against his chin. “I remember bits and pieces of the stories you told me about Asterbury, but those were a long time ago. I think you’re going to have to fill me in, best you can, before we go into the desert.”

Revaramek swallowed, his ears flattening. “Yes, I am. In the meantime, let me sum it up thusly. Asterbury was once called Vakaal. When he was a child, Vakaal and his father lived with a tribe of urd’thin shapers, in the desert.”

Nyra tilted her head. “The same desert we’re going to?”

“No,” Revaramek said, before hesitation seized him. He blinked in thought. “Though it seems less and less a coincidence now that Asterbury’s clues are leading us out there.” He held a paw up. “If anything, it will seem stranger to you than that. The desert Vakaal was from was on the very same world you and I were born. The swamp.”

Nyra pulled her head back, his ears splayed. “Nonsense. There’s no desert there.”

“Not anymore, there isn’t.” Revaramek shivered, his scales clicking. “But there was. Once.”

“I suppose at this point, I know well enough just to believe you, no matter how outlandish your words may seem.” Nyramyn chuckled a little. “What happened to the desert, then? Why did we live in that retched swamp?”

Revaramek considered just how to explain that to her. He swished his tail, working his jaw. “Let me start a little earlier.”

Nyra nodded once. “Go ahead.”

“As I said, Vakaal and his father lived in the desert, with a tribe of urd’thin shapes.” Revaramek glanced towards the Cathedral when he saw movement. Mirelle watched from the doorway, and held up his paw to ask her for a little time. She waved in reply and went back inside. He returned his attention to Nyra. “One day, a group of very powerful humans called The Storytellers invaded their desert. They came from another world, one which they had ruined. For countless years, they followed after a god they believed could save their world. And at last, the trail led them to capture Vakaal, and his father.”

Nyra’s spines shot up. “They thought they could capture this god?”

Revaramek snorted, then rumbled to himself. “I know, I know, the hubris. Truthfully, they did not realize they had captured actual gods. For Vakaal and his Father were living as mortals, and the Father kept the secret of their godhood, in hopes of giving his beloved son a normal life. The humans believed them to be distant descendants of the god, possessed of shaping powerful enough to help heal their world. But the man in charge of this mission was cruelty incarnate. He believed Vakaal to be the stronger of the two, and forced him to hone and strengthen and hone his powers by…”

Revaramek faltered. Horrible images flashed through his mind. A sobbing urd’thin pup, soaked in his father’s blood, desperately piecing him back together. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head as if to clear it. “I know, I know, I’ve seen it. I don’t need to see it again!”

“Rev?” Nyra grasped his paw. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” He opened his eyes again, glancing back at her. “Strange, though. Right before I made my bargain with Asterbury, he…” Revaramek forced himself to swallow. “He showed me what his life was like, in…all too vivid detail. I just saw it again. Like he’d stashed the memory there, just to remind me.” He took a slow breath to try and calm his suddenly pounding heart. “They…tortured Vakaal’s father. Basically to death, sometimes. And they made Vakaal…” He gestured with a paw. “Fix him. Like a goddamned puzzle.”

Nyra gasped, her eyes wide. “That’s…hideous! How could they…I can’t fathom such cruelty. Let alone to a child!”

“I know.” Revaramek leaned his head against her, sighing again. “It doesn’t excuse the things Asterbury did. But…I understand why he turned out that way. The two of them held out as long as they could. I’m…honestly not sure why, sometimes.” Revaramek’s gaze slowly returned to the figurines, one of an urd’thin pup, another of a dragon hatchling. “The Father could have ended it any time he chose, and yet…he refused. He showed only restraint, even in the face of endless brutality. I’m sure he had a reason. Maybe he was clinging to the hope he could still Vakaal a normal life, someday. Or perhaps it was his last shred of mercy he clung to, hoping someone amongst Storytellers would do the right thing. Put an end to their suffering. Give him a reason to be merciful. But, in the end…” Revaramek swallowed. “He could stand to see his son suffer no longer. And so, one night, he spoke to his son a riddle, and behind the riddle, lay godhood.”

Nyramyn gave a low growl. “I suspect they got what they deserved.”

“And more so.” Revaramek curled his tail, staring in the distance, picturing Vakaal in his mind. “For once Vakaal solved the riddle, all of existence was but a story waiting to be re-written. He freed himself, freed his father, and he smote their captors into oblivion. But such power was never meant to be wielded by someone so young, and he lost control. Entire worlds…” He lifted his forepaws, splayed his fingers, and then knit them together. “Merged, entirely by accident. And that, Nyra, is why you have stingtoads. And so many other mixed up animals. And ruins of civilizations that never existed in the swamp. And so many other things. Because once, in an age long past, Vakaal saw four stories. And in his desperate attempts to set them right, four became one.”

“That…” Nyra blinked a few times, then lifted a forepaw to rub her head, just under a horn. “That makes my brain hurt.”

“Welcome to the club, my love.” Revaramek laughed, then gave her nose a gentle lick. “You’ll get used to it.”

“So, is that how their desert became a swamp?”

“No.” Revaramek shook his head, his voice softening. “Grieving gods did that. They drowned the whole world with their sorrows alone.”

Nyramyn stared at him for a long time. When she finally spoke, her voice was little more than a whisper. “You’re serious.”

“I am deadly serious, Nyra.” Revaramek hung his head, his frills drooping. “On my last day in the swamp, when Asterbury came for me. He took me to the place they once held him captive. Showed me where they tortured Vakaal and his father. Some of the ruins are still there, but the desert is long since sunk beneath an entire ocean, birthed by the anguish of mourning gods.”

“Dare I ask what they were mourning?”

Revaramek licked his nose. “Everything. Their tribe was gone, lost to the harsh desert without their protectors. The mortal lives they sought to live were gone with them. And in the end, they lost what mattered most. Each other. When Vakaal saw what he had done, he sought to fix things, and in so doing, lost control completely. His own powers blasted him out of one existence, and into another. And so the father was left behind, I think.” He tilted his head in thought. “And the skies cried with him, for all he had lost, until the world itself was washed away.”

Nyra winced, her ears back. “So those humans. The Storytellers. They didn’t just ruin their world. They pushed a god so hard he ruined his own world, too.”

“Essentially.” Revaramek scratched his neck. “It’s strange. I’ve never really thought a lot about what might happened to Asterbury’s father, after that. There were books, basically about Vakaal, that he left for us, many years ago. But they’re all left frustratingly ambiguous in some respects.” Revaramek tossed his head. “Damn authors and their mysteries. Perhaps I simply haven’t been thinking on a grand-enough scale. After all, he didn’t seem to be the same version of Asterbury’s Father I would have expected. He kept telling me that his son was dead.” The dragon grimaced, his frills low.

Nyra lifted a paw. “Let me see if I’m keeping up.”

Revaramek waved his free wing. “By all means, love.”

“That represents Vakaal.” She pointed to the urd’thin figurine. “A god child from a desert, who along with his father, was tortured until his god powers ruined the world.”

Revaramek scrunched up his face. “That’s awfully simplified.”

Nyramyn glared at him. “So is your mating routine.”

“Nyra!” Revaramek gave a mock gasp, a paw placed over his heart. “That hurts.”

“Am I right or not?”

“Certainly not!” Revaramek tossed his head. “I’m a fiercely creative lover and you know it. It simply seems I have to remind you-”

Nyramyn put her paw over his muzzle to shush him. “Shut.” When he went quiet, she continued. “Am I right about Vakaal thus far? Yes or no?”

Revaramek nodded once.

“Good.” Nyra eased her paw away. “In that case, couldn’t you have just told me the short version? Humans tortured a family of gods until they broke reality, and turned a desert into a swamp.”

Revaramek looked away, muttering under his breath. “Can’t tell a story without details.”

Nyramyn stretched her neck to give him a gentle lick. “You know I love your tales, Rev. And later, I do want to hear the detailed version. But for the time being, you need to sum things up for me.”

The dragon huffed, thumping his tail. “That was me summing things up.”

Nyra gestured idly with a forepaw. “If you say so.” She smiled at him, nudging Rev with her muzzle. “Don’t sulk, love.”

Revaramek hung his head, still muttering. “Not sulking.”

“You are.” She gave him a lick. “Now…” Her voice hardened. “Teasing aside…You make it sound as if no one has seen or heard from that god since…” She glanced at the figurine, leaving the rest unspoken.

“Correct.” The playful moroseness drained from Revaramek’s voice. “Until now.”

“And you really think that’s the same god, who showed up here last night?”

Revaramek gave a low rumble. “Yes, Nyra, I do. It was an urd’thin, nearly the same build and fur color as Asterbury. Similar face, but identical. Even if I didn’t know the story, I’d have guessed them to be related. And it’s not like gods age unless they want to.” He licked his nose. “I’ve no idea what became of the father, after that, or where he might have gone. None of the old books talk about him. I know that years ago, Asterbury once hoped to return to his desert, and see his father again. But…” He drummed his fingers against the blanket. “That sand monster last night didn’t exactly seem pleased to hear Asterbury’s name. And he kept telling me his son was dead.”

Nyra blinked, her head tilted. “Sand monster?”

“I’ll get to that.” Revaramek flicked his tail. “Is it possible he just considers his son dead, because Asterbury is basically a different person, now? That’s a kind of death for Vakaal, anyway. Though…he seemed pretty certain that his Vakaal was the other kind of dead.” He glanced over at his mate. “What do you think, Nyra?”

Nyramyn just stared at him. “I think you should have that conversation with your former slave mistress. I don’t know half of what you’re talking about.”

Revaramek patted her forepaw. “I suppose you’re right. We’ve gotten a bit sidetracked, anyway. You’re caught up on the gist of things now, at least.”

Nyra nodded once. “Enough so for the moment. So, what happened with this god? Why was he here?” She bared her fangs in sudden frustration. “And why didn’t you wake me up? This sounds exceedingly important!”

“For one, Nyra?” Revaramek bumped her with his muzzle. “You were passed out drunk!”

“I was not drunk!” Nyramyn hissed at him.

“Drunk, drugged, same thing.” Revaramek cackled to himself. “Either way, you were high as the damn stars one moment, and sleeping like a stone the next!”

Nyramyn nipped at his ear, earning a yelp. “I was not high! I was sedated because-”

“Because you needed your sleep.” Revaramek rubbed his ear. “For another thing, I suspect the god ensured your slumber would not be disturbed. I don’t think he wanted anyone else to hear our discussions. Even Korakos could scarcely hear us talking. And it wasn’t as if we were speaking swamp dragon, anyway.”

Nyra arched her neck, gazing at Rev. “You spoke with this god at length, then?”

“I did.” Revaramek set his jaw, staring across Mirelle’s yard to the stretch of golden sands. Winds danced across them, stirring little golden whirls. Revaramek shivered at the sight of them. “It was not a pleasant conversation.”

“What happened?” Nyra’s voice softened. She gently licked his neck. “Did he tell you why he was here?”

“Yes, love,” Revaramek said, swallowing. “Yes, he did.” He took a slow, deep breath, plated chest expanding. The dragon held it till his lungs ached. “He came to warn me against trying to save you.”

Nyramyn went still, her eyes widening. Slowly, her frills rose. “What?”

Revaramek’s mouth went dry. He worked his tongue around his muzzle, struggling to moisten it. “He knew all about your illness. And about our plans to journey into the desert to find a cure. And he warned me not to go.”

Nyramyn curled her neck, her words barely a whisper. “How could he possibly know that? We only just made those plans ourselves.”

“I don’t know, but I have some theories.” Revaramek splayed his ears, growling to himself. “And most of them begin with the word Asterbury.”

Nyramyn gave a little rumble, her tail curling over his. “So, the god came to warn you that the desert would be too dangerous?”

“Not exactly.” Revaramek took another deep breath. How the hell was he supposed to tell Nyra that an actual god just threatened to kill him, if he tried to save her life? Might as well just blurt it all out, he thought. “He implied that saving you might incur a cost greater than I could imagine, and might even somehow put the world itself in jeopardy.”

Nyramyn flattened her spines, confusion etched across her muzzle. “How the hell would that be possible?”

“I’ve no idea, Nyra, but…” Revaramek licked his nose, his wings sagging. “He also implied he would stop me if he had to.” He held up a paw to cut off any questions. “Further, he told me that our best course of action is to do nothing at all. To stay here with Korakos, and live out your last years as a family, to give him as many happy memories as possible.”

Nyramyn scowled, her ears back. “That sounds suspiciously like something I might have tried to convince you was for the best.” She glanced away, clouds of sorrow drifting across her eyes. “If I ever thought you’d listen.”

“I know, Nyra.” Revaramek set his paw atop hers again, gently squeezing it. “But I cannot sit here, and watch you wither away, and do nothing. I watched my mother go through that. And to her dying day, I wished, ever so desperately, that there was something, anything I could do to save her. To help her.” He leaned in closer, pressing his muzzle to hers. Sudden tears brimmed in his eyes. The dragon’s throat tightened, aching at the back of his jaws. “Nyra, if the worst happens? I promise you, I will find a way to live with your loss. I will find a way to move on.” Revaramek took a shaking breath, his grip tightening on her forepaw. “But I cannot live with having done nothing to save you. If I try, and I fail, someday I will find forgiveness for that failure. But not even trying? Watching you slowly fade away, while I do nothing? That, Nyra?” Revaramek sniffled, forcing out words. “That, I could never forgive myself for.”

“Alright, Rev.” Nyramyn offered him a little smile. “I suppose we’ve already had that conversation.”

“Indeed we have.” Revaramek eased his grip, glancing away. “But…perhaps we should reconsider-”

“We’re both going.” Nyra sharpened her voice. “I know what you were going to say, but we made a deal, remember? I didn’t let your human friends cut me open and sew me back up just so you could fly off into danger on your own.” She withdrew her paw from beneath his. “You can’t wait around and watch me die, and I can’t wait around without you again, wondering if you’ll make it back this time.” Nyra unsheathed her claws, and waggled a single one at Revaramek. “I know your mind is set, but so is mine. So whatever that god threatened you with?” She set her paw against his neck. “We’ll face it together.”

“Death, Nyra.” Revaramek stared down at his own front paws. “He threatened me with death.”

“Well, then.” Nyra only tilted her head, a little smile upon her muzzle. “I’m already facing death, so I don’t see the big deal.”

Revaramek couldn’t help but smile at her playful bravery. Feigned or not, it was inspiring. “Exactly! And I tried to tell him I’ve already fought gods before! And I won, mind you.”

“Of course you did.” Nyramyn arched her neck, deepening her voice in imitation of her mate’s. “You’re Revaramek the gods-damned Resplendent!”

“Damn right I am!” Revaramek slapped a paw against the ground as if suddenly stumbling upon a revelation. “Oh! Maybe that’s why he’s mad, all the gods-damning I’ve been doing.”

Nyra solemnly nodded. “Gods do dislike being damned. Perhaps if you apologize, and un-damn him, he’ll let us pass into the desert unhindered.”

“Worth a try.” Revaramek tossed his head. “And if that doesn’t work, I’ll just have to kick his ass, just like I kicked Asterbury’s.”

“Exactly.” Nyra’s smile slowly faded. She looked away, her eyes wandering across Mirelle’s garden. Nyra’s ears drooped a little, and trepidation crept back into her voice. “Did he really threaten your life?”

Revaramek grit his teeth, his webbed tail twitching. “Unfortunately.”

Nyra gave a low growl that slowly rose in ferocity. “Then he shall have to get through me, first. If he so much as puts a single harmful finger upon you, I shall bite his balls off!”

“Nyra!” Revaramek jerked his head up at her particularly explicit threat, then cackled to himself. “And I thought damning him was going to make him angry. That’s really going to piss him off.”

“Yes, well…” Nyramyn shook herself, her scales rattling. “Threaten my family, and that’s what you get. Then we’ll squish his head while he’s busy squealing, or…healing himself, or whatever it is gods do when a dragon bites their balls off.”

Revaramek laughed again, subconsciously rubbing his hind legs together. “As much as I agree with you in spirit, I doubt you’d ever get anywhere near them. And even if you did, you’d probably just end up with a mouthful of sand.”

“Sand?” Nyramyn tilted her head. “Oh, is he the sand monster you mentioned? Well, I don’t care. I’ll still bite-”

“Please stop saying you’ll bite off his balls.” Revaramek curled, just a little. “You’re starting to frighten mine!”

Nyra just laughed, glancing back. “Poor things.” She returned her attention to Rev’s face, her fangs soon bared once more. “I mean it, though.” Her voice grew stronger and hotter with each word, like steel being forced. “I will fight for you with every ounce of strength and violence I have, if it comes to it. Just as I would fight for Korakos, and just as you would fight for us.”

“I know, Nyra.” Revaramek stretched his neck, licking her nose to try and soothe her sudden ferocity. “I know. I’m not sure that’s a fight we can win with strength, though. At least not the traditional kind.” He nosed at her chin, then cast a glance towards the figurines. “For all my talk, and all her heroic tales in which I shine a particularly valiant light upon myself?” Revaramek shrugged his wings. “I never stood a real chance against Asterbury in a straight fight. I held my own for a few moments, but…” Memories of agony flooded Revaramek’s mind, of shattered bones and torn flesh. “He beat me into battered pulp without much effort. It was only ever Vakaal who kept Asterbury from killing me. But…” He swallowed, trying to force the painful memories out of his head. “I beat him, because I outsmarted him. I knew what he wanted, and I used that against him. I…I don’t know what this god wants. At least, not yet. But…I’d hazard a guess it has something to do with whatever the hell Star’s Blessing is.”

“Why?” Nyramyn scooted closer, leaning against Revaramek’s side. “What else did he say?”

Revaramek canted his head, considering the question. “That the desert was his. Like it belonged to him. And when I mentioned Star’s Blessing, it almost seemed to frighten him. He seemed shocked that Asterbury would even mention it to us, so to speak. In fact, he seemed aggravated that Asterbury was even trying to send us out into the desert, at all.”

Nyramyn thrummed to herself. “At least that probably means we’re on the right track?”

“I’d say so, yes.” Revaramek brushed his paw pads back and forth across the blanket, wrinkling and smoothing it. “Although, the sand god seems to think it’s a fool’s errand.”

“You’re going to have to tell me about the sand.” Nyra glanced towards the golden stretch of it nearby.

“He was made of it,” Revaramek said.

Nyra sucked in a breath. “Made of sand? I thought you said he looked like an urd’thin.” She slowly turned her head towards the figurines. “You mean, he looked like one of those, only full sized?”

“Not exactly.” Revaramek waved a paw. “He was normal looking, at first. At least…as normal looking as a naked urd’thin with a striking resemblance to your arch enemy can be, when they show up unannounced and spying on you, in the middle of the night.”

“Yes, that all sounds perfectly normal.” Nyra smirked, nosing him.

Revaramek flicked his tail. “Right. Suffice it to say, he appeared to be a real, flesh and blood urd’thin at first. After all, even Asterbury is technically flesh and blood. But this one…” Revaramek scrunched up his muzzle, flattening his spines. “When he started getting agitated, parts of him started to crumble. Into sand. As if he wasn’t an urd’thin at all, anymore. As if the urd’thin was just…a shell, made of sand. Like it was protecting something else. Or…or hiding it. And when he started getting angry with me, his concentration slipped, and the shell fell apart.”

Nyramyn swallowed, her ears splayed to nervous angles. “What was under it?”

“Nothing.” Revaramek shivered, his scales clicking. Somehow, speaking the truth of it aloud was even more unnerving than seeing it in person. “There was nothing inside him, nothing under the shell at all. Just a voice on the wind, warning me to stay away from the desert. And then it carried him away in a cloud, into the darkness.”

Nyramyn’s sudden shudder was a mirror for his own. “Maybe…maybe I won’t bite his balls off.”

Revaramek laughed, shaking his head. “That’s probably a good idea. I’m not sure if he even feels pain. Honestly, Nyra, I don’t know what he is. I’ve been calling him Asterbury’s father, yet I don’t think that’s quite right, either. For now, I think I’m just going to call him Everyone Dies.” He held up a paw to prevent the inevitable question. “Just go with it, for now.”

“As you wish, love.” Nyramyn nosed him, sighing. “So that was it? He came all the way out here from… his desert, or wherever he’s been, just to threaten your life, and tell you to let me die?”

“Not quite. Apparently…” Revaramek turned his head, gazing up towards The Cathedral. Beka, Tavaat, Mirelle, and even Binir were all working together to position long, low tables on the back patio. Korakos ran around them in circles, no doubt supervising. “It was Korakos’s spark that actually drew him here, in the first place. He sensed it when Korakos tried to heal you. And…” Revaramek tensed. “He told me not to let Korakos try to save your life.”

Nyra gave a nervous whine. “Korakos couldn’t do that anyway! Right?” When Revaramek did not immediately respond, Nyra flattened her frills. “Right?”

Revaramek opened his muzzle, but no sound came out. He closed it again, then merely shrugged his wings.

Nyramyn quickly shook her head. “No, there’s no way Korakos can do what you can’t. Not yet, anyway. And besides, if Korakos could heal me, then…why wouldn’t Asterbury just show up and tell him to do so?”

“I don’t know, Nyra.” Revaramek licked his muzzle. “But, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Asterbury put that clue into Korakos’s head. Not mine, not yours, but Korakos’s.”

Nyramyn snapped her jaws. “It doesn’t matter! After what you said happened to him last night, it’s not worth the risk.”

“I completely agree, Nyra. But…” He trailed off, sighing and looking away.

“But he can’t heal me anyway, right?”

Revaramek stared at a single yellow dandelion. “I’m not actually sure of that. Everyone Dies wasn’t especially clear on whether or not Korakos could actually save you. Only what would happen if he tried.”

“What…” Nyra’s voice trembled. “What would happen?”

Revaramek uttered a broken whimper. “Don’t make me say it out loud, Nyra.”

Horror dawned in Nyra’s eyes. “No…” She jerked her eyes back, frills spread. “No!”

“He made it sound like some kind of…” Revaramek clenched a paw into a fist, hissing. “Cosmic balance. That Korakos because you saved Korakos from the swamp, your life was forfeit in his place. And thus, if he saved you…then your life replaces his.”

“No!” Nyramyn jumped to her feet, snarling at him. “I will not let my son-”

“Nyra!” Revaramek rose alongside her, his voice firm but measured. “Neither of us will let that happen to him. And right now, you need to remember you’re injured.” He patted the blanket, softening his tone a little. “Please lay back down.”

Nyramyn glared at Revaramek for several long, silent moments. He bore her anger willingly, for he knew it was not intended for him. Nyramyn simply needed an outlet for emotions that had no where else to go, and Revaramek was happy to take all the poison she could spit, to keep it from building inside her. Eventually, she heaved a sigh. Her wings drooped, and all the angry fled from her in a rush. She dropped back to her belly, whining.

“I’m sorry, Rev.” She nuzzled at his muzzle, her ears down. “I didn’t to snap at you. I’m just…tired. And my belly hurts. And…this is a lot to take in. Even for us.”

“I know, Nyra. I know.” Revaramek licked her nose a few times. “Maybe that’s enough, for now. You know the gist of it, now. I can fill you in on the rest, later.”

“Do you…” Nyra craned her neck, staring over Rev’s wings. Mirelle stood on the back patio, cradling Korakos against her chest. “Do you think we should bring him with us, after all? Would he be safer with us? What if the god comes back, and we’re not here to protect him?”

Revaramek lifted a paw and gently cradled Nyra’s cheek. “No, Nyra, I think he’s safer here than anywhere else. I don’t think Everyone Dies wants to hurt Korakos. In fact, I think he’s actively trying to avoid that.” He gently turned her head towards the two figurines. “He doesn’t want us to lose our child, the way he lost his own. Neither does he want Korakos to lose us. That’s why he told me to stay here with you, and Kor, and just make us many happy memories as we can, in the time you have left.”

“That…doesn’t sound so bad.” Nyramyn leaned her head against his neck. “I’m not arguing in favor of it, I’m just…”

When she trailed off, Revaramek sighed. “I understand, Nyra. I really do. But there’s something else to consider, now. Korakos has realized he has powers. And he knows he can make you better. But…he doesn’t know what it might cost him. If we bring him with us, and he sees you struggling in the desert? Or, stars forbid, he sees you hurt? Sees us battling some sand god? What if he tries to save you? What if he goes too far, and…”

Nyramyn shuddered, whimpering under her breath. “No, you’re right. He’ll be safer here.”

“Especially now that we know we may have active opposition.” Revaramek stroked her foreleg. “I think leaving him here with the gryphons is the only choice we can make. Besides, he’s going to have an important duty.”

Nyramyn glanced up at him, her eyes narrowed. “What kind of duty?”

“It was Korakos’s spark that guided you to find the gate. The stories he told weaved themselves into the world, and brought you home to me.” Revaramek gently bumped his muzzle to hers. “You believe that, right?”

After a moment’s thought, Nyra slowly nodded. “I do.”

“Good.” Revaramek lifted his head, a smile spreading across his muzzle. “Because I think I know how to outsmart this god, too.”

“What do you mean?” Nyra tilted her head. “How?”

“The same way you beat fate, before.” Revaramek turned his gaze to his son, still smiling. “I’m going to have Korakos tell another story.”