Chapter 114, 1/2

Chapter 114, 1/2

A chime struck, ringing out a hundred bells that rang and then went silent. A chorus of quiet, shrill voices sang in some unknown language, then calmed; waiting. Another chime. A drum. Thum. Thum. Thum. Quiet voices rose to the sky, as drums beat and the chimes turned to strings, vibrating out a tune of power, charging words with focus and ritual.

The music of the Feast flooded out of a pavilion made of light and shadow and rainbow-stained glass, three levels up from the ground floor. The song started the second Erick decided to leave for the party, and now, he was stuck, frozen in sudden reverence at the entrance to Quilatalap’s property. How could he move with that eerie song vibrating against his very soul, as drums thrummed the very sky? How could he do anything else but listen, as the white light of the Brightwater, the source of all illumination down here, began to flicker and mutate, and the air above began to change? He could not, for the music held him, and he listened.

Erick’s attention broke northward, to the center of the Brightwater District, where the eclipsing sun held high above the lake. It flickered. It was not the lake that was flickering, but that dark sun. Suddenly, that blot of darkness and light broke, scattering into a million pieces, spreading throughout the sky like the breaking of a glass world, turning the high sky of the Brightwater district into a land of broken darkness.

The music of the Palace went silent, as the sky stilled. Up above, in the pavilion of light and shadow that was sure to be the party, a woman in a white dress stepped out on a long cliff of white stone, facing the broken sky. She was alone, and she longed not to be alone any longer. She sang soft words to the world and though she was easily several hundred meters away, Erick heard her strange language, like she was singing directly to him. The singer was Queen; Erick almost didn’t recognize her. But that was Queen.

The music picked up again; a crescendo of power, rising to meet Queen’s unknown words. She bled, from her throat, from her arms, from her body. Her white dress turned to red. The white cliff dripped with red streams.

Suddenly, the music reached a point, and broke, and was no more, as Queen carried herself and her voice, all alone, out to the very edge, her words becoming every language Erick had ever heard.

“We live in Light, but seek the Dark, to seek the night, we give a spark! A time of fate, a land made whole, the world is made by this, our soul!”

The sky cracked. Queen disintegrated from the inside out, in one final, glorious moment. The shockwave of her death spread out in every direction, blowing out windows, cracking stone, breaking crystal from monuments and breaking the windows of Quilatalap’s house.

Erick held his breath. What the fuck just happened? Ophiels took up the music that was gone, but theirs was a quiet imitation; they were on high alert, but the music had been interesting while it lasted, and they wanted it to happen again.

And then the sky shifted once more, as a dark laugh reverberated the Palace, and Melemizargo spoke,

“A valiant, honorable display. But come on back, my little Queen. You’ve got plans to prepare!”

Time reversed in the vicinity of the white cliff. Blood, bone, and gore, flowed inward, resuming the shape of Queen. The Shade immediately knelt toward the sky, just in time to watch as six auroras flashed into the broken black sky above. Six lights, from white to black, along with red, green, blue, and yellow, shed deep glows upon the entire Palace, and likely the rest of the Brightwater District. The black sun did not return. The lights remained. The six lights became more as they mixed with each other, becoming true rainbows as more and more intermediary colors came into being. Under those prismatic lights, Erick watched the broken windows of the Palace heal, the broken streets shift back together. Walls that had fallen, rose; repaired.

Erick whispered, “What just happened?”

Quilatalap said, “They started the party without us.”

Erick looked askance at the man. Quilatalap was smiling as though he had told a funny joke. Normally, Erick would have retorted with a joke of his own, but had no jokes at the moment. He was all out of fucks to give, too.

Quilatalap noticed. He added, “Uh. The symbolism?”

“I got that part... But the murder? Was that real?”

“Of course. And then it was reversed.”

“Ah... Okay? Sure. Why not.”

With a fake smile on his face that had the chance to be real sometime in the future, Erick strode past the gate to Quilatalap’s house. He waved to the kowtowing shadelings and otherwise on the streets, and proceeded up the side roads of the Palace, toward the party area a few tiers up from ground level.

The music was well underway by the time Erick had approached the actual event. Ethereal, heavy, and yet upbeat, sonorous tones undulated the auroras of the sky above, while the party happened down below. From this angle, it was still impressive, but it was not what he had expected from the ‘Shade of Opulence’. This place had looked like a warehouse, or a cathedral, from his position below, but from up here, Erick wondered why there was only one wall. Sure, it had stained glass and looked pretty enough, but what about the other three walls? That wall didn’t even protect from anything; it was situated next to the stone wall of the next tier up of the Palace District. The main party took place on a well-kept, yet empty temple floor, but it was an open-air party.

Erick looked up, past the lone cathedral wall. The party also took place up above, on the next tier above. The band must have been up there, somewhere, because though Erick could hear the music well, there were no musicians in sight.

What was in sight, were Shades talking to other Shades, or eating, and...

Floating images, hanging in the air, next to the overlooking edge of the party? Erick would have to see to those later. They looked like viewing screens, of some sort.

But he needed booze! Shades were already talking amongst themselves, while shadelings and otherwise exited from doors set into the stained glass cathedral wall, to refill nearby food tables, already stacked high with food, probably to ensure that they never looked less than perfect. There was one long table for meat, another shorter one for cheeses. Then there were breads and sauces. Fruits and veggies. And there’s the booze table, and a bartender!

... Shade bartender. The one who wore the cocksock at the Telling. Erick only saw the top half of him. Maybe he was still wearing the sock? He eyed Erick, as Erick eyed him. The Shade winked.

Great.

Erick looked around, at the direct entrance to the party, to see if there were guards or some hidden line or something, set into the ground. This place seemed like a trap, for sure.

A bit odd, that, for there was no proper entrance. This particular road of the Palace District ran right into the party. Now that Erick looked at everything, again, this place seemed like there might have been a church here, or something similar, long ago. And then something happened, and all that was left was the one wall near the next tier up? That seemed odd. All the other buildings everywhere were intact; this was the only one that looked like a ruin.

Erick wondered at the etiquette of entering such an event, or if there was anything like etiquette when it came to Shades, or to this sort of party. Quilatalap said something about heading for the booze, and simply walked forward, crossing the invisible threshold into the festive space. After a brief moment of hesitation, Erick followed, as he stationed his Ophiel around the place, but he kept them to their tiny forms. A few Shades eyed the Ophiel and then him, as he walked in, but they returned to their own conversations soon enough. He also left one outside, down the road a bit, and in his full three-meter height.

More than one kowtowing parishioner had followed Erick and Quilatalap up to the party, but they had remained far behind, and gave Erick a wide berth. That full-sized Ophiel quickly drew a crowd.

Quilatalap got to the bar, and its Shady bartender, just before Erick.

The Shade on the other side of the bar was an incani of light blue skin, with short white horns and short, trimmed hair. In fact, all of his hair was trimmed, over every part of him. Annnnnndddd he was not wearing the sock anymore. Everything was all hanging out, behind the bar, and the bartender smiled as Erick glanced over the bar, down at the goods.

There was a certain drink that Erick would have ordered in any other situation like this, and if he were still on Earth. But alas, he was not on Earth, the man wouldn’t even know what the shot was, and despite displaying it all out there, and the obvious interest in the guy’s eyes, Erick did not want to lead the guy on.

Quilatalap looked from Erick, to the Shade, and decided to do some introductions. “Erick. This is Professor Farix. He runs the Truedark Academy.”

Erick scrunched his eyebrows together, as he looked upon the naked man in a slightly different light. He heard of ‘the Professor’. This was yet another rarely seen Shade. Killzone didn’t say much about the Professor, except that the Professor’s crimes were not very well known, nor were his motives, or true age. It was theorized that his was an inherited position, drawn from graduates of Truedark Arcanaeum, and that former ‘Professors’ moved on to other titles when they left their post and took up power in other parts of the Dead City.

Erick said, “Nice to meet you, Professor Farix.”

The man smiled, revealing bright white teeth. “Only my students call me Professor; please call me Farix, unless—” He backed up a half step, twisted his hips, and slapped his thing onto the bar in front of him. “— You’d like a few private lessons? A few after-hours study sessions, perhaps?”

Erick looked at the piece of anatomy staring up at him. It was quite nice.

But.

Erick burst out laughing. He rapidly stopped himself, but barely kept it together, and mostly because he was honestly interested, but here? Now? No. Not going to happen. He said, “I’m gonna need some booze first, and to know that you wouldn’t screw me over in a way I wouldn’t want, Farix,”

Farix smiled, dropping himself back down behind the counter. He turned to the five tiers of booze sitting on lit-up shelves behind him, saying, “Anything you want. How drunk are you looking to get?”

“As drunk as safety would allow.”

Farix smiled wide again. He did have a rather nice face. And then he opened his mouth and started talking and Erick barely kept from laughing again. Farix said, “Perhaps a Busted Arsehole, or a Raging Manhood? Perhaps a Raging Orcol Manhood? Or I can make you a Slippery Slope, if you’re looking for some truly fun times—” He stopped speaking, as another approached.

Erick was glad for the new distraction. He was a second from another burst of laughter.

Queen spoke from Erick’s right with a perfectly pleasant voice, “I’ll take a Slippery Slope, and you stuffed back into your sock before I violently cut it off.”

That wasn’t a joke; Erick could tell. Mirth vanished. Erick was both relieved, and saddened, that the fun moment of sexy talk was so short-lived.

Farix waved his hand over himself, and he was back to wearing his sock. “Anything for the Queen.” He asked, “Ice, or no ice?”

“Ice.” Queen turned to Erick, and with a much nicer voice, said, “Glad to see you come out.”

“I wouldn’t dare miss this event,” Erick said, in a way that he hoped came off as ‘dangerous’ and not ‘scared about possible retaliation’. As soon as that thought formed, he knew a lot of this party would be like this. He already knew that, of course; but knowing and experiencing were two different things. He would have to be slightly dangerous himself this whole time, or else they would eat him like he was a butchered cow floating in a school of sharks.

“Partake of whatever you wish. Nothing is poisoned, and I’m working the rest of the problems as we speak,” Queen said, with a great deal of what might have been sincerity. “After a few warnings and my personal clearing of some of the more obvious traps, more than one person saw the error of their ways and came up to me and reclaimed their own contributions to this Feast. They said they had something better, and they were able to produce those items, but I’m letting you know now that they were simply removing the traps that they had laid.”

Farix used shadows to gather four different bottles behind him, as well as four different fruits from the fruit table, near the bar. With expert handling, and more body movement than was likely necessary, he crafted a drink for Queen.

Erick was sort of stunned. Not that there were traps in the food and in the party, that much Erick had sort-of expected, but it was surprising that Queen was being so open about it. What was her angle? To prove herself to Erick, somehow? Or was she lying about the traps, in order to drag Erick’s opinion of the other Shades to a new, lower level?

He almost told her that she needn’t have bothered; Erick’s opinions of the Shades was already as low as it could possibly go. There was literally no way to go lower than ‘all of them should die’, for even that was beyond the depths of Erick’s usual lowest-possible opinions of people.

Literally the only way Erick’s Shady opinion could go was up.

And wasn’t that a sobering thought. Erick almost cursed.

Queen took the drink, saying, “Thanks,” and then she turned back to Erick, to continue, “There’s usually a lot of trapping and poisoning at this sort of event, but I’m thankful that most are keeping that to a minimum.” She spoke a bit louder, for some of the other Shades were obviously watching, and listening. “I have found two traps that were not removed, though.” She gave the sweetest, yet most diabolical grin. “I’ve got provisional leeway to kill those two Shades, so don’t worry about getting dead, Erick. Even if you suffer that indignity for a short while, we’ll bring you back and then you can help us collectively kill the murderer. So have fun!” She gestured to Farix, but continued to speak to Erick, saying, “He’s a great lay, just so you know. If only he could be a bit more proper in public, but like that really matters, am I right?”

Erick stared at nothing in particular for a long moment, then his brain kicked back on. He said, “Okay!” He turned to Farix, saying, “I’ll take a Slippery Slope, for some truly fun times, as you have so helpfully suggested.”

Queen smiled, then said, “That has some mild psychedelics, just so you know, just in case Farix wasn’t going to tell you. Nothing too ostentatious, but it makes the auroras above really, really pretty. If it gets bad, just [Cleanse] yourself.”

Farix mocked offense, “I would never compromise Erick’s position or alter his state without telling him!” He quickly gathered the Slippery Slope ingredients again, and said to Erick, “But if you wish for a compromised position, someone else can man the bar for an hour or two.”

Queen looked Farix up and down, and the man noticed. He casually stretched while he was making Erick’s drink, giving Queen as much of a look as she desired. She just giggled, then turned away, drink in hand, to go greet other guests.

In ten more seconds, Erick had his own Slippery Slope, expertly poured by a wonderful bit of eye candy. It was a pink drink, finished off with a slice of some fruit Erick had never seen before. He sipped it, while Quilatalap and Farix watched him drink. The archlich, probably to gauge if he had to rescue Erick from death, the naked Shade probably just because he wanted to watch. The drink tasted good. Really good. Farix smiled.

Quilatalap told the man, “I’ll take a Vivid Gloom.”

Erick suddenly had to ask, “Why did they name a drink after my spell? That threw me for a loop when I visited Candlepoint, too. What’s in it, anyway?”

Quilatalap shrugged. “To mess with you, and I’m not sure.” He turned to Farix, “What’s you say it was? Arafruit, farrowroot, cream, rums, and liquid shadows?”

Farix began constructing the Vivid Gloom by starting with assorted fruits, three bottles of various shades of brown and clear, and some white stuff in another bottle, while a bit of controlled shadow stuck a toothpick into a tiny jar and came out with a drop of what looked like velvet darkness. As the fruits and such went into a mixer, he said, “A Vivid Gloom is frozen, crushed arafruit, farrowroot, some cream liquor, three different rums, mostly clear, and a drip of liquid shadows distilled into an exterior coating.” He shook the mixer as he took the toothpick of darkness and ran it around the inside of a glass. When he poured the drink into the class, the contents flowed like white pearl and shimmering darkness. He handed the drink to Quilatalap, and said, “The liquid ‘darkness’ is actually just shadow essence that’s had almost all the light sucked out of it, but it’s still shadow essence.”

Quilatalap took the drink and happily said to Farix, “Dark Essence is too poisonous, anyway.” He asked, “What other projects are you working on?”

“Tryna fuck Erick.”

Erick laughed.

Farix smirked, then momentarily spoke like a professional, “There’s no projects right now, since we’re all facing down a restructuring. The school is off for break and this year’s break might be longer than usual. But some of my students are looking for private tutors to fill the gap. Would you be interested in holding a class, or teaching some students for a month?”

Farix sighed and scowled just a bit, as he pulped red berries and mixed rums, and said, “I’ve been making Well Laid Plans since I was a mortal. They’re not that difficult.”

Erick had to laugh at that, for any other emotion would have been the wrong one to have in this tense situation. And then he looked around, and realized something. “Oh. This party is in the middle of an open field because you expect to fight someone and everything is expected to blow up at some point in time.” He said to no one in particular, “I really should have gotten that sooner. I kinda thought y’all’d’ve been above murder for a single day, especially when it came to your own party, and holiday, and people. But that was obviously expecting too much.”

“Exactly right, Erick!” Fallopolis said, as she took her drink from Farix. The crowd was ignoring her, and Erick, but some people flinched when Fallopolis spoke for everyone’s benefit, “Which is why they all gotta die! Buncha backstabbing lowlives, up in here. With all the new commandments from Melemizargo, I’m aiming for a slew of benevolent dictators, or silent investors in the world, but there’s no room for narcissistic megalomaniacs who only think of their own power and prestige.” She turned to Erick. “What are your thoughts?”

Erick downed the last of his drink. He felt the colors of the world turn a little more vibrant, as he wondered at his response.

These people before him considered themselves the rulers of this world of Veird. If everything continued as they wished, they would be the rulers of multiple worlds. These people would have control over so many others. There would be Ar’Kendrithysts on every world out there, in this solar system of Veird.

If Erick had a say in that... If he couldn’t just kill them all... What kinds of Shades did he want for the future?

Erick decided, “Missing investors.”

Fallopolis laughed at the sky, then said, “Possible! Possible!”

Erick turned to Farix, and with an empty drink in hand, asked, “Can I get this, but stronger?”

Farix began gathering ingredients again, saying, “Slippery Slopes sneak up on you.”

“I’m well aware.”

- - - -

Erick sat on a bench, overlooking the Brightwater, while he sipped his Slippery Slope. It was a good drink that reminded Erick of a mojito; a little minty, and heavily alcoholic, but smooth. It made gazing upon the Brightwater a lot easier. Sure, the Brightwater was dimmer, now, while the sky was filled with auroras, but it was still bright.

And the psychedelics were finally kicking in, so that was great.

He asked his current companion, “What are some example Wizard powers?”

His current companion, sitting on the bench next to him, but still a meter away, was Queen. The regal incani had switched her dress out for something easier to walk around in; a nice, flouncy blouse, and a ruffled skirt. All of it was white, but also iridescent on the edges.

She sipped her own drink, which was a green thing served in a glass cube, and said, “Take any spell of the Script and make it better, and have it cost nothing. That’s the most basic example of Wizardry there is. Destruction is annihilation. Easy enough to understand that one. Paradox is harder. That’s all about influencing fate and time and possibility. You won’t find those spells in the Script, unless they’re given to you by a god.” She glanced over to the left, saying, “Your chocolate has been a hit.”

Erick laughed. “I should hope so!” He glanced backward at the table of chocolate. There were cakes and bars and powders and all of that which Erick had brought, and more. Queen, or someone, had even used Erick’s instruction booklet to make some chocolate themselves, and then work it into a meter-tall sculpture of a tree, with about a hundred smaller animals sitting around that tree. Erick approved. He said, “Chocolate was a career back on Earth. Chocolatiers, they were. Like specialized candy makers. Did you try all of it?” He suddenly asked, “No one poisoned it, did they!”

Queen smirked. “Yes, I tried it, and yes, it was poisoned. The harpy, Binjara, poisoned it, and she never came forth, even when I called out that various traps were to be removed from the foods. Some people got the message, and removed those traps. Binjara did not. Luckily, she only managed to get to a false set-up, though. We replaced it when no one was looking.” She sighed, as though sad. “I don’t think she even knew that we had replaced it, either.” She frowned. “And then we even gave her another opportunity to come clean. But then she went on that rant.”

“Sounds like her death was planned.”

“Not directly. We don’t take the murder of our own lightly, despite what you might have seen today. The Shades of the Spire set certain societal traps she had to trip, first, to ensure that she was truly too far gone to save. But then, like the idiot crazy person she had become, she went and tripped them all, and then she had the gall to rant at us. Binjara was gone. She had probably been gone for a long time.”

Erick didn’t know about that. To him, Binjara deserved what she got, especially if she liked to plunge people into famine for funsies. But he didn’t say anything about any of that.

Queen asked, “Are you going to try and make this Mana Generation spell that they’re talking about?”

“I need to, right?” Erick said, “But I’m going to get some concessions, first.”

Queen smiled. “What sort of concessions?”

“An end to the widespread destruction. An end to controlling from the shadows, though, now that I say that out loud, it seems to be an antithesis of what Shades are and do.” Erick added, “Whatever the case: no more killing. At all. Or mutating. Or any of that horribleness.”

Queen took a long moment, then spoke, “Long ago, we used to be teachers and guiders. We were the wandering archmages in the woods, who miraculously saved the rookie adventurers who were in over their heads against whatever monster-of-the-month they were facing. We were the viziers for the kings and queens, who taught the children of royalty and helped generations upon generations of family lines of good people, who only sought to make their own little fiefdoms a bit better every day.” She said, “I already do that, here, but I have had to be rather ruthless occasionally. A lot more than I imagine I would have to be, if this new world order comes to fruition.”

Erick, wisely, didn’t say anything against that, either. All rulers were more ruthless than Erick was comfortable with. Even if Queen was telling the truth, she was probably worse than any other ruler on Veird.

- - - -

Erick stood to the side of the singers and the orchestra, where a few Shades had gathered to listen more closely. The musicians were all rather well dressed, and only a few of them were shadelings. They sang a song of uplifting news, and traveling the world. It was a good song.

- - - -

Goldie, the Shade of Assassination, held a bar of dark chocolate in one hand, and a hot cocoa in the other. The cocoa had rum in it, or some other liquor, for sure, because Goldie slurred her words, saying, “Now— owh. I mean. Now here’s da shting. Mana reneration is rate and wall. Ut. But! But. You can get furror with soul shundering. Dere are doe many chriminalse, ERICK! Youse can make yoursh Wishardly corhe ow evvar you whant! Jhust kill shome chriminales in dah futuer! Theysh don’t need thar lifes! Eashy!”

Erick nodded, and left Goldie to her own devices. As the party wore on, he caught sight of her more and more, sitting around corners, peering through crowds, looking over the edge of her glass, staring at him, but never approaching.

- - - -

“Do you know any Wizards?” Erick asked the group in front of him.

“None living,” said a woman, who walked away.

“Nope,” said a man who followed the woman.

The third just walked away, silently averting their glowing white eyes from Erick.

This interaction repeated itself a few times. Erick didn’t always ask the same question, but the result was always the same. The Shades walked away from him. Why did he even approach these Shades for a talk? Well. He was on a slippery slope, for sure. Might as well fully experience the ride, to ensure that his decision to kill them all was the right one.

Erick didn’t know whether to be happy, or—

Erick was happy; he decided. This was a good outcome.

Let them flee from him in terror of their own mortality! Bwa ha ha ha!

... He looked to the drink in his hands. He needed another.

- - - -

“There you are!” Erick said to Quilatalap, after he eventually got another drink and found the man up another level, past the music level.

The orcol sat in a quiet stone amphitheater, by himself, sipping on an empty drink. This place was probably a place for private concerts; it was not a large area. Quilatalap said, “Hey, there.”

Erick held forward a Well Laid Plan, and offered, “Want a copy of my own drink? I switched to a Well Laid Plan when the walls started melting.”

“Sure.” Quilatalap smiled as Erick handed him a Well Laid Plan. “Got tired of being shunned?”

Erick’s eyes went wide, as he laughed, and said, “Never! That was awesome. They—” He stopped himself; he was still sober enough to have that much self control. Best not to say that he would never get tired of scaring Shades into hiding. Saying that out loud would risk those Shades trying to prove him wrong. Instead, he sat down next to Quilatalap, and asked, “Know any Wizards?”

“I have. Many, many. You looking to make that mana generating spell, or something?” He sipped his drink.

Erick gave no answer for that, instead, he said, “I’m thinking about it, but now I’m also thinking of the rad-around-the-heart problem.”

Quilatalap said, “Oh. Well. That’s not a large problem. If you take certain precautions. How much do you know about dragons?”

“Not nearly enough?” Erick lost all train of thought for one surreal moment. He asked, “How the heck are dragons related to this?”

“Have you ever wondered why there’s a ‘wyrm season’?”

“Sort of? Not really.” Erick said, “You’re going to have to explain that one.”

“Okay. So. This is a multilayered problem that started with the rise of the Script, and the necessity of levels to gaining power. What I’m about to tell you is an open secret of their particular society, and if you thought Shades were bad, then you haven’t seen nothing. So maybe keep this to yourself. Anyway.” Quilatalap said, “Dragons are monsters, technically, and monsters gain power by absorbing rads and mana into their bodies. Shadelings are also capable of cycling their mana and drawing the mana of the world into their core in order to easily gain levels. But for shadelings, this possibility only goes to level 55ish.

“Dragons can get much, much higher than that, because they can utilize grand rads larger than most, and even multiple grand rads if they have that capability. Dragons can get into the 90s with this method. It’s exceedingly rare for that to happen, but it does happen.

“But here’s the trick: When they’re done with the cycling and the easy gaining of levels, they can discard their built up grand rads, and return to being not-monster.” He stressed, “Only if they’ve managed to keep their soul out of the rad, though. This is key. This gets wildly difficult when they are forced to cycle billions of mana per second in order to reach those high, high levels in any sort of useful time table. But they’re immortal, so they have time.

“Those that are capable of this feat have time. The rest? Not so much.

“Anyway! The dragons have something resembling a society, but it’s difficult when they’re all poised to kill each other when they’re not related by blood. The Draconic Blood Curse, you see.” Quilatalap said, “So their society is rather fractured, but within their families, it is not. They still have ancestral homes in the forests north of the Wyrmridge. They’re hidden, but they’re out there, and a lot of them are inside the Old Dragonkin lands.

“Anyway! Every year at the end of Water Season, when they’re all good and rested and fat and poised for advancement, the younger ones are taken in by their elders in those ancestral homes, and they have a graduating ceremony, where the elders help the youngsters learn how to cycle billions of mana per second without falling to monsterfication.

“Doesn’t always work, but it works well enough. Some survive the process and go on into the world to make their marks, or other dragons, or to kill other dragons. Most youngsters do not survive this process. They become wyrms. Those fallen children are released out into the world, discarded as failures.”

Erick listened intently to the horrors of dragon life.

“And I’ve gotten a bit away from myself.” Quilatalap said, “Condensing a rad and maintaining your own soul in the process is key to draconic power. This fact has not changed since the Old Cosmology. Dragons have been doing this literally forever. But in this New Cosmology, they do not have control over themselves if they fail to keep part of their souls outside of the grand rads they form.

“Shades don’t have this problem. They get their grand rad and keep themselves from that final fall, but you need Melemizargo’s help for that. In the case of the shadelings and the Shades, they don’t discard their rads at all; they become their rads, completely, and because of Melemizargo’s power, they keep their minds.”

Erick looked to his drink, then to Quilatalap. “You’re gonna need to explain that to me, again, but slower, and more elaborate.” He said, “That feels like... Like big information.”

Quilatalap smiled. “Are you going to become my student?”

“I guess I am.” Erick added, “As long as you don’t have too many skeletons in your closet.”

“First lesson: don’t keep your skeletons in the closet.” Quilatalap joked, “They go in the morgue.”

Erick smiled as he sipped his drink, and the archlich spoke of rads and monsters, souls and mana, and levels.