For a while, no one moved.
Dinraal still held Isolde's hand.
The silver thread between them had faded from sight, but he could still feel it.
Not physically.
Not exactly.
It was simply there.
A certainty.
Like the memory of a voice in the darkness.
Like the knowledge that, before he had ever opened his eyes, someone had been waiting for him.
Isolde.
Dinraal looked at her.
She noticed immediately.
"What?"
He hesitated.
"You really talked to me that much?"
Isolde narrowed her eyes.
"You heard all of that?"
"I heard some of it."
Her face turned red.
Dinraal smiled.
"Not all of it."
"Good."
"But enough."
"Dinraal."
He laughed.
She folded her arms.
"Don't."
"I didn't say anything."
"You were about to."
"I was thinking."
"That is worse."
Dinraal stopped.
His smile faded.
The words.
He had heard those words before.
His mother.
I was thinking.
That is worse.
A strange ache passed through him.
Isolde noticed.
Her expression softened.
"What is it?"
Dinraal looked down at his hands.
"I remember her."
"Tiamat?"
He nodded.
"I don't remember meeting her."
His voice was quiet.
"Not really. I remember her heartbeat. Her voice. The way she laughed."
He swallowed.
"But I never saw her. I realize all the memories i thought were real were mere illusion."
Isolde tightened her grip on his hand.
Dinraal smiled faintly.
The ancient chamber remained silent around them.
Even Alexander had stopped making jokes.
Dinraal looked toward the silver light still burning in the abyss.
Something bothered him.
Something small.
But the longer he thought about it, the larger it became.
He raised one hand.
A lock of his hair fell across his fingers.
Black.
Completely black.
Dinraal frowned.
"There's something else."
Isolde followed his gaze.
"What?"
"My hair and my horns."
Claire blinked.
"Your hair?"
Dinraal nodded.
"In the memory."
His fingers tightened around the strand.
"It was silver."
Silence.
Gilgamesh's expression changed.
Dinraal immediately noticed.
He turned toward him.
"You know something."
Gilgamesh sighed.
"I'm not the right person to ask."
"Then who should I ask?"
Alexander nodded.
"Eve, or your "grandmother."
Caesar glanced at him.
"No one asked you."
Alexander crossed his arms.
"History will remember that I was correct."
Cleopatra sighed.
"History is often cruel."
Dinraal ignored them.
"Gilgamesh."
The ancient king looked at his hair.
Then at Dinraal.
"It changed."
Dinraal waited.
"That is not an explanation."
"I know."
"Then explain it."
Gilgamesh was quiet.
Before he could answer, the enormous presence beneath the planet spoke.
SILVER IS NOT ALWAYS A COLOR.
Everyone looked downward.
Dinraal frowned.
"What does that mean?"
IT IS AN INHERITANCE.
The ancient voice echoed through the chamber.
WHEN YOU WERE BORN, THE INHERITANCE WAS STILL OPEN.
Silver light appeared around Dinraal.
For an instant—
his black hair changed.
It became silver and two silver horns sprouted.
The chamber froze.
Then the silver vanished, along with the horns.
His hair returned to black.
Isolde stared at him.
Dinraal touched his head.
"What?"
The ancient mother laughed softly.
YOU CLOSED YOURSELF.
Dinraal frowned.
"I don't understand."
Gilgamesh stepped forward.
"I do."
Everyone turned toward him.
Gilgamesh looked at Dinraal.
"Eve's blood allowed you to survive what should have been impossible."
Dinraal remained still.
"Human."
Gilgamesh raised one finger.
"Dragon."
A second.
"Something older."
A third.
Dinraal glanced toward the abyss.
"And whatever she is."
The ancient presence laughed.
MY GRANDCHILD.
Dinraal stared downward.
"I'm still getting used to that."
"You will," Gilgamesh said.
"No, I don't think I will."
Gilgamesh almost smiled.
Then his expression became serious again.
"When you were born, your body carried every inheritance openly."
Dinraal looked down at his hands.
"That's why it was silver?"
Gilgamesh nodded.
"The silver was visible because nothing in you had chosen a single form yet."
Dinraal frowned.
"But I have always looked human."
"Mostly."
Dinraal looked offended.
"Mostly?"
Cleopatra raised her hand.
"You are much too handsome to be only human."
Julius glanced at her.
"You said i was...."
Dinraal looked back at Gilgamesh.
"What changed?"
The ancient king was silent.
Then—
"You did."
Dinraal stared.
Gilgamesh looked toward the darkness.
"A child does not remain an open vessel forever."
The words felt wrong.
Dinraal's expression darkened.
"Don't call me a vessel."
Gilgamesh immediately nodded.
"You're right."
Dinraal looked away.
Gilgamesh continued.
"Your body began making choices before you were old enough to understand them."
"Like what?"
"Survival."
Dinraal frowned.
"Survival from what?"
Gilgamesh looked toward Aurelius's abandoned communicator.
No one spoke.
Dinraal slowly turned.
His stomach tightened.
"What happened?"
Gilgamesh's expression became grim.
"That depends."
"On what?"
"On how much of the truth you're prepared to hear."
Dinraal laughed without humor.
"That's never a good way to begin a conversation."
Isolde stepped closer to him.
Dinraal felt her hand find his again.
He looked down.
Then at Gilgamesh.
"Tell me."
Gilgamesh closed his eyes.
And for a moment—
the ancient chamber disappeared.
Bahamut stood on a battlefield.
Dinraal knew the place.
Not because he had ever been there.
Because he had heard the story his entire life.
The Field of Veyr.
Where Bahamut had died.
Where Aurelius had slain him.
Where the Dragon Emperor's death had ended an age.
But the battlefield in Dinraal's memory was quiet.
No armies clashed.
No fires burned.
The wind moved through the broken banners.
Two men stood at the center of the field.
Bahamut.
And Aurelius.
Dinraal went still.
His father wore armor.
Aurelius did too.
Neither looked ready for battle.
They looked tired.
Aurelius removed his helmet.
His hair was darker then.
His face younger.
But his eyes—
Dinraal recognized them.
He had seen those eyes his entire life.
The Chancellor.
The man he had hated.
The man who had hunted him.
The man who—
Dinraal stopped.
Aurelius looked at Bahamut.
"You're getting worse."
Bahamut laughed.
"That is a remarkably polite way to say it."
"I was trying."
"You should stop."
Aurelius looked toward the horizon.
"You're dying."
Bahamut was silent.
Dinraal's breath caught.
His father's illness.
He had known.
But seeing it—
seeing Bahamut struggle to remain standing—
was different.
Bahamut leaned against his sword.
"I know."
Aurelius turned toward him.
"Does Tiamat know?"
Bahamut's smile disappeared.
Silence.
Bahamut looked down.
"Not yet."
Aurelius's expression changed.
"Bahamut."
"I know."
"You cannot keep doing this."
"I know."
"You're Emperor."
Bahamut laughed bitterly.
"That is precisely the problem."
Aurelius stepped closer.
"The Empire will survive."
Bahamut looked at him.
"No."
The word was quiet.
Certain.
"It won't."
Aurelius became still.
Bahamut turned toward the distant sky.
"Half the Empire wants me deposed."
Dinraal stopped breathing.
"The other half wants to rule forever."
Isolde tightened her grip on Dinraal's hand.
The memory continued.
Aurelius's face hardened.
"They don't even know Dinraal exists."
"Some do."
"Who?"
Bahamut did not answer.
That was answer enough.
Dinraal felt cold.
The secret of his birth.
His blood.
The Last Silver.
Even then—
people had known enough to be afraid.
Aurelius looked away.
"What are they planning?"
"Civil war."
Dinraal stared.
Bahamut continued.
"Some want Dinraal named heir."
Aurelius's eyes narrowed.
"And the others?"
"Believe the Empire should never be ruled by someone carrying human blood."
The words struck Dinraal.
His hand tightened around Isolde's.
Bahamut smiled without humor.
"Apparently I spent centuries convincing people dragons were superior."
Aurelius looked at him.
"Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Pretend you regret nothing."
Bahamut looked away.
For a long moment—
he said nothing.
Then—
"I regret more than I can count."
The wind moved across the battlefield.
Aurelius's voice softened.
"What do you want?"
Bahamut looked at him.
"I want my son to live."
Dinraal stopped breathing.
Aurelius's expression hardened.
"He will."
Bahamut shook his head.
"You don't understand."
"Then make me understand."
Bahamut took a breath.
Then coughed.
Blood touched his lips.
Dinraal stepped forward instinctively.
Isolde caught his arm.
The memory could not be changed.
But Dinraal still wanted to help.
Bahamut wiped the blood away.
Aurelius stared at it.
"You're dying faster."
Bahamut smiled.
"I've noticed."
"Then let me call Eve."
"No."
"Gilgamesh."
"No."
"Tiamat."
Bahamut's smile vanished.
Aurelius stopped.
The two men stared at one another.
Then Aurelius understood.
"Tiamat?"
Bahamut looked away.
"Gone."
Dinraal felt the world tilt.
His mother.
He knew she had disappeared.
He knew there were questions.
But Bahamut's face—
The grief in it—
told him something was still missing.
Aurelius spoke carefully.
"What happened?"
Bahamut's voice was barely audible.
"I sent her away."
Dinraal froze.
Aurelius stared at him.
"What?"
Bahamut looked toward the stars.
"Dinraal needed a chance."
"Bahamut."
"She would never leave him otherwise."
Aurelius stepped closer.
"You sent her away?"
"I made her promise."
Aurelius's expression darkened.
"You don't get to do that."
Bahamut laughed once.
"No."
The sound was broken.
"I didn't."
He closed his eyes.
"She agreed."
Silence.
Dinraal looked at the memory of his father.
And understood.
Tiamat wasn't dead.
Not then.
Perhaps not now.
She had gone away.
To protect him.
Aurelius looked toward the horizon.
"And now?"
Bahamut answered.
"Now we make sure the Empire doesn't tear itself apart trying to decide what my son is."
Dinraal stared.
Aurelius turned back.
"What are you proposing?"
Bahamut looked directly at him.
"Kill me."