Some consider dragons to be the ultimate predator of the land, and in many ways this is true. But a dragon can be reasoned with, bribed and appeased. A dungeon, though quieter, is unrelenting in its hunger. And no dragon can eat the soul.


    <hr>


    The walls of the dungeon shuddered and twisted as Jair and Eythron appeared in its inner sanctum, but with visitors inside the room the core couldn''t do anything to them. Its creation powers were limited to the rooms outside the reach of any other soul. Only once it had nibbled off enough fragments of you could it start creating things directly around you.


    Eythron walked straight to the hidden panel behind which the core rested, as though drawn by a magnet.


    It''d taken Jair a solid week of searching the room to find the hidden core. Eythron simply placed a hand on the wall and the panel melted away into teal sparkles of light.


    Wait, what?


    The old mageblade leaned in and whispered something. Then the room trembled a second time as Eythron reached in and drew out the core in both hands.


    Meliarn was a light teal-green crystal, a bit larger than Eythron''s head, teardrop shaped with countless glittering facets. A white light shone from within its depths, refracting into a rainbow through every surface, casting light on everything like a teal-tinted stained glass window.


    Eythron held up the crystal in one hand and summoned his soulsword in the other. He paused to look Jair in the eye. "You can get us back out quickly?"


    Jair nodded, then yelped as he realized what his mentor planned. "Wait, no, don''t!"


    Eythron tossed the core into the air and his movements became a blur. He slashed it in half with a ringing note that echoed in the enclosed space, other hand already moving upward as he switched the blade from hand to hand. He divided the core again and again even as it fell, until the ring of steel on crystal was a continuous note.


    Fragments of the core fell around Eythron like a rain of sharp-edged marbles.


    Jair had never seen a dungeon so thoroughly destroyed. A dungeon core was a soul so condensed it solidified to the point of near impenetrability. Physically damaging it was all but impossible. It required specialized tools to even scratch it.


    Eythron had shattered it into a hundred precise fragments in under two seconds.


    Soulcutter.


    No other explanation for it. The one ability he''d seen on Eythron''s soulsword but never before witnessed, put to glorious, destructive use.


    And eliminated their most reliable weapon against Sekir.


    Maelstrom manifested in a sudden surge of... something. Jair found himself taking a step forward before he caught himself. Much like how Maelstrom had wanted Skyclaw, it wanted the pieces of Meliarn.


    That wasn’t something Jair was prepared to deal with. If he reverted now, he could restore Meliarn to before it was shattered. If Maelstrom ate it, the dungeon may never be the same again.


    He couldn’t risk that. Not when it was the one place he could guarantee the sorcerer’s soul was locked down.


    “No.” Jair leveled Maelstrom at Eythron, denying both Maelstrom and mentor as the old man reached for the fragmented core pieces on the floor, three of which were still glowing weakly. “I need Meliarn intact. You don’t get to kill it.”


    “And I need it in pieces.” Eythron’s sword reappeared in his hand between one heartbeat and the next. “You want to fight me over it? I’ll win.”


    Jair tightened his grip on Maelstrom. He reverted to before he darkflamed them into the inner sanctum and everything reset in a blaze of golden lines.


    They stood in the hallway. Eythron raised an eyebrow, questioning.


    “What do I need to do or say for you to leave Meliarn intact?”


    Eythron’s eyes snapped to Jair’s, then narrowed suspiciously. “Why would you ask that?”


    “I told you, I need it intact.”


    “No you… ah.” Eythron’s scowl deepened. “I don’t like seers.”


    “You’ve mentioned.”


    “I’m sure I have.” Eythron crossed his arms, but his eyes kept drifting past Jair down the hall. "Conditions. I cannot overpower the call. Every moment within its range will be a fight until Meliarn is shattered."


    "Yeah, well, as major of an asset as you are, Master, the ability to lock Sekir in place is too valuable to give up. If you need to stay here murdering monsters for a few months, go ahead, but if you touch Meliarn before Sekir is dealt with I will not let it stand."


    "You don''t understand."


    Jair crossed his own arms. "If I can fight a hopeless battle for a hundred years, then you can manage a few weeks of resisting your need for destruction! Your soul is easily the equal of mine, and a bit more toughened too."


    Eythron shook his head. "You have no idea what you''re asking."


    "I need your help against Sekir. You were able to resist Mercurios. Can''t you do the same with Meliarn?"


    "It''s different."


    "How! Please, tell me. I need you. We have to be able to figure this out."


    Eythron ran a hand through his hair violently, lips pressed tight together as he looked anywhere except at Jair.


    "You can trust me," Jair shouted. "Just tell me, old man!"


    "Fine!" Eythron retorted. He drew his sword and aimed it Jair''s eye. "You want the truth? Don''t resist."


    Maelstrom appeared in Jair''s hand almost in the same instant, but he resisted the instinct to strike back and held it loose at his side.


    Eythron didn''t move. "You trust me, or you don''t. Which is it?"


    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Jair took a breath, nodded, and dismissed Maelstrom.


    Eythron lunged. The imprint on his upper arm flared brilliantly blue as his sword passed straight through Jair''s skull as though it weren''t tangible at all.


    But Jair felt it. Not in his lifebody, but something much deeper rippled and stretched, then tore, as Eythron''s other hand came up and slammed into Jair''s forehead, blocking out his vision and sending him backward to the ground.


    He had time to fight back, but he didn''t. If this was what his mentor required, he would allow it to play out. Eythron wouldn''t have given him warning if he actually wanted him dead, and he could always revert if necessary.


    For a moment, everything Jair was went fully blank. It was incredibly brief, barely a split second, then he became aware of a divide. It was shallow, barely a scratch, but through it something alien waited for him. Invited him inward.


    He hesitated. Reached out ever so carefully.


    The moment he touched it, he became someone else.


    Eythron''s memories were nothing like his own. Where Jair''s mind was overlapping layers and gaps overwritten again and again and again, hopes and fears and analyses and impulse, Eythron''s were so organized it felt unnatural. Jair slipped into the specific moment Eythron wanted to show him without resistance.


    They stood at the southern edge of the Oriad. In the distance, a shimmering overlay of blue teased at the edges of his vision, as though the whole world beyond that point stopped being real, instead made of hardlight simulation.


    "Are you sure, Ty''esi?" Uqiar''s low voice was drenched in worry. That may well be the highest possible beastkin honorific, Ty''esi—not one that Jair had ever heard used before.


    ‘Ty’ meant something between lord, master, king, teacher, depending on the specific context. One-who-commands-for-betterment. Pairing it with ‘esi’ which was generally translated as ‘greatly honored’ made it almost exaggeratedly obsequious. Ty’Eythron or Eythron’esi would be more than respectful already.


    So much for honorary uncle. This went far beyond any such familial connection. Closer to a sworn retainer to an emperor. And a particularly devoted one at that.


    "There is danger to far more than just us. I must try." Eythron''s voice sounded lighter from within his own memory, lacking the gruff edge that Jair was familiar with. His accent was stronger as well, the words tasted more Zoraanish.


    "Your oath..."


    "Will not stop me. This once. I must try."


    "And if you are wrong?"


    They turned to face Uqiar, rested a hand against his black-furred forearm. "Then you will save me." The words were accompanied by absolute confidence, as though Uqiar''s reliability was as much a bedrock of Eythron''s psyche as protecting Raina was core to Jair''s.


    Together they stepped forward, cautious and slow, toward where the world turned to light. Uqiar didn''t notice when they reached it; he kept walking while Eythron came up sharply to a stop.


    The ground before him didn''t look real. It was an illusion of light painted over an endless abyss, and he couldn''t unsee what lay beyond.


    "Ty''esi?" Uqiar turned back when he noticed Eythron had not followed. He looked all around. "Is this the edge?"


    Eythron nodded. He summoned his soulsword, then hesitated even longer. Finally, he gave the weapon to Uqiar. "I will not take it unless I truly need it," he said. Then he stepped across into the unreal reality.


    Anger slammed into them.


    Solid, palpable, helpless fury. Nothing could satisfy it but destruction, and there was no way to destroy.


    Jair nearly lost the connection, even in memory the sensation was so strong.


    Just as strong as the anger, a counterpoint against it, rose an unsettling hunger. Hunger from within.


    The anger fed into the hunger, and the hunger fed into the anger, and both grew and grew and grew until it was all he could think about.


    Crimson light glowed from the far distance. Past the blue of the artificial world, deep within the unreal reality it waited, both the source of the anger and the target of the hunger.


    There was no thought, only action.


    The only sound was the roaring of his blood, the thunder of his heartbeat tripping over itself, and the hollow echo of his footsteps as he ran desperately at the crimson core.


    Jair only heard Uqiar''s voice because he was straining for it, reaching desperately for anything but the still-growing war within Eythron.


    "You haven''t answered me, Ty''esi! Do you need to be taken back?"


    Eythron in the memory didn''t even recognize it as words. A distant hum far softer than his inner war, than his own body.


    His forward progress was arrested and then reversed. The chaos intensified the further back he was dragged.


    No.


    He fought and bit and screamed. The sheer unthinking violence of his mind was impossible to supplant.


    Even Jair’s ability to observe rationally was swept away by the emotional torrent that flooded through Eythron relentlessly.


    Uqiar dragged him away, deep back into the Oriad, and still it lingered, overpowering.


    The memory flickered, jolted.


    Darkness.


    Jair—Eythron—stood leaning against the wall in Ryenzo’s lair. Only he didn’t recognize it at first, because all the stone was woven from green light and a dizzying quantity of it in all directions.


    His hands were chained behind him and the relentless hunger tore at his soul.


    What echoed back to him was not the violent anger of the crimson Orard core, but a deep apathy that threatened to suffocate him entirely.


    The hunger sharpened itself against the apathy and the apathy dulled his resistances with its slow persistent presence.


    The chains clinked as Eythron tried to pace. He felt wrong. Off. His body wasn’t right. His soul wasn’t right. Lightheaded. Dizzy. Uncertain.


    Hungry. HUNGRY.


    He paced desperately, trying to center himself in his body.


    He counted steps. Looked up to search for Uqiar and reassure himself that his friend was still there.


    (Friend wasn’t the term for it, but Jair had no word for how Eythron felt toward his ward. Fatherly was too soft and teacher too formal.)


    He resisted as long as he could, but the lure grew too strong. He had to go. Death called and he could not deny it any longer.


    He fought his way past Jair and dove into the lava, even as something slammed into his back and burned through him.


    When he returned to awareness, it was back in the same room, but the echo of Mercurios had stilled. Something in him repelled the dragon. With its presence deflected, the hunger had nothing on which to feed.


    Brightness as everything shifted again.


    Then, Meliarn.


    Where the dungeon in Orard had been angry and Mercurios had been disinterested, Meliarn was afraid. The fear echoed against the hunger, and just as the others had, reinforced each other in an endless building crescendo.


    Meliarn was afraid already, but sensing the hunger the fear grew irresistible.


    Predator sensing prey, Eythron felt its weakness, its vulnerability. The piece of him that had been suppressed for so, so long growled to life.


    Meliarn’s fear grew.


    The hunger surged.


    It had been denied Orard’s dungeon. Mercurios was beyond its reach. But Meliarn? It was right there. Meliarn was weak. Vulnerable.


    He wanted it. Needed it.


    Finally, finally finally a call he could answer.


    A call he would gladly answer.


    So deep and so intense was the inner draw of the memory that it took Jair almost ten minutes to realize it’d been the same scene in the courtyard where he’d first brought Eythron to the oasis.


    Eythron had noticed none of it. The overwhelming presence of Meliarn was all he could see, yellow light overlaying everything. Defining everything. The sand, the wall, the table, the layers of the house one behind the other…


    And behind it the desperate, all-consuming hunger.


    Then the connection ended. The tiny tear in his soul rejected the intruder, mana flowed in to cover it until it could reknit itself, and Eythron staggered back away. He leaned against the wall, bracing himself with one arm.


    “There has to be another way.” But Jair’s voice lacked conviction.


    “If there is, I haven’t found it.”


    <hr>