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"He will be fine. He won't be able to see through his right side anymore, but we can graft skin on the exposed part. It's a miracle he doesn't get a shock after being hit by a full-on light bomb."

"He has a strong will to live and to guide us through the treacherous Southern Region. He has earned our eternal gratitude."

"Quite an honor for a dragon that almost betrayed us all. Our question, though, lies in you, young one."

"Me?"

"Do not attempt to deny it or giving all the honor to the old one," said the dragon healer. "We have pride ourselves with an impenetrable ancient wall that separate us from the outer world. If you have an explanation, I suggest that it can wait. Now, tell me...why are you here?"

The two Argoons felt like strangers even though they were in the middle of the same race. Many other Argoons looked at them like they were exotic beasts, which unnerved Avila even more. It was only after Xiciro started talking did it become less apparent.

"We...were summoned by Avet to help him return to his kin, and to find our own that has been captured and taken to a particularly infamous dragon prison."

Amidst gasps and murmurs around them, the old Argoon said, "Vile, it is, to be separated with your own. Would you care take a walk around? Our community is active during the night."

The bustling city felt like it was another place in another time, because it felt like it had never changed for thousands of years. Carved stones with ancient draconic language Avila could not understand were etched around them. Some younglings climbed on top carved mountainside and tried to fly, but in the end they could only glide, with their yet undeveloped wings. Avila, however, was more interested with some Argoons that were clearly just like her: feathered wings and split tails. So she wasn't the only one, she thought. But do they know their fate?

Some younger Argoons looked at her as if she was different, but some looked at her like some sort of a warrior. She seemed to attract some similarly feathered death dragons, but before she could talk to one of them, Xiciro pulled her wing.

"I know you are eager to start looking around, but we are not here for sightseeing. It is apparent that they have seen us as outsiders."

"I know that already, but I can't seem to feel sad seeing so many death dragons around."

"The Dark Angels swore an oath that, in return of defending this place, their souls will be claimed by the Angels of Death, and their body will join them in the Land of the Death," said the dragon that escorted them. "By the way, my name is Scadel. I'm one of the dragon healers here, so if anything happens to you, you can count on me."

"Thanks, but we'll just be here for a while. We just need the direction to the dragon prison..."

"For that, anyone won't help you." Scadel turned serious. "Don't mean to be rude, but that prison has become a dreadful place the more we spy on it."

"So that's it? You just abandon your eggs?"

"By now they will have been hatched, and we cannot do anything to stop their reconditioning into slaves." As Scadel said that, he made a low frequency growl. "All we can do is...to see them suffer..." Avila felt like she knew the peril the settlement, Nia Bareth, had. They wanted to help the hostages, but they could not risk opening their gates to anyone after years of isolation. Not only that, they must've known what Avet had been through to finally get help, from being blackmailed (in human's term) into being forced to fight against the dragons he was supposed to support.

Xiciro could see Avila's agitation, and some of the dragons around her felt the same, too. Despite of wanting to stop her from going rampage, she was around similarly powerful dragons, so he could at least stop worrying. He instead turned towards Scadel.

"You two are...quite unique fellows," said Scadel before Xiciro could talk. "I mean, I've never thought it is possible to artificially make yourself an Awakened."

"Excuse me?"

"The Southern Argoons have a good reason to regard you as outsiders. Xiciro, you are an Awakened, but your abilities are artificial. Same with Avila."

Scadel turned to her. "Your ability is not only darkness, is it? You have other abilities, too."

"If I show it here..."

"I prefer not to," said Scadel coolly. "I have good faith in you controlling them. Now, follow me. You must speak with the elder."

They could not even see Scadel's emotion the whole way they followed him, but they did not care, if he did not do anything to them like suddenly throwing a dark construct scalpel towards them (which, being an Argoon dragon healer, could happen).

They arrived at a big building seemingly made from limestone, but had a magical property so there was a big urge not to go inside. It was just a moment, but they felt as if they did not want to go in, but Scadel stopped them by giving them necklaces.

"It's a library containing our race's heritage and history, along with ancient draconic magic we know. With that, we all know the history you Westerners tried so hard to erase...a spot in your 'pristine' history."

"Don't compare me with short-lived humans."

"I do not, and I assumed you, being raised in the West, don't know anything about it. It seems you are not that far from us."

The Argoon stared at the door before it opened by itself, startling the two visitors. What's inside, however, dumbfounded them.

The two dragons expected to see scrolls and oversized books when told that it was a library. How surprised they were that the supposed 'library' was pretty much prehistoric itself. There were no scrolls inside, only rocks carved with ancient draconic language both could not read (though Xiciro could read some based on knowledge). The interior was dimly lit with blue fire, and it felt cold just by going inside, unlike the exterior where it was warm. Inside, a lone dragon sat amidst stacks of parchment, noticeably empty, yet it was being written by the dragon, which like most Argoons, had nimble front legs.

"Now I take my leave, elder," said Scadel before he turned around and close the door behind him. There was an awkward silence between the three of them, but Xiciro, clearly too taken with the appearance of so many histories and knowledge, wanted to read some of them, despite of Avila's silent objection.

He only stopped when the elder spoke.

"Welcome, outlanders," said the old Argoon, trying to stand. "It seems you've solved the...hmm?"

He stared at Avila for a while.

"I see. Your eyes have been tainted with darkness. That's the only way to see this place without resorting to...extreme measures."

"May I ask what's the real way to see the gate?"

"Hmm...it is hard to explain, but without your eyes, young one, it will be impossible to see the fool's gold, which is to see with the eye of your soul."

"Much like the third eye, then?"

"Indeed, if you compare it to human lore," said the Argoon. "I am Erakor, keeper of this archive. I am continuing my forefather in preserving knowledge and culture most of you might've forgotten. For example...where do I put that blasted rock again..."

Erakor shifted through the parchments trying to find the 'rock' he was trying to find. After struggling for awhile, he finally found the rock, which was a tablet carved with ancient draconic.

"For example...a dragon named Yortascix is in love with a young Argoon dragon named Xana and wanted to mate with her, but because of Valutja's betrayal they were separated."

"Yortascix? Wait, is he referring to the Yort?!" exclaimed Avila. "You mean that old dragon actually had a girlfriend?!"

"He has his moments of youth, Avila, and stop shouting in an archive."

"No, I'm fine, by the way. This tablet was written by Xana thousands of years ago in an ancient draconic writing, and is one of many proof that our ancestors were once Western dragons. Those stones you saw when you came here are words of wisdom from the first dragons that made this archive. You two, being from the West, have no way to understand many small details because I can say you prefer to erase this moment in history, am I right?

"For us Argoons, knowledge is power. Many dragons know this, but they don't have the mean to record it. Do you know that eighty percent of dragons in this Region is illiterate?"

"Well, considering that we are feral creatures and are not normally used in writing, I am not surprised," said Xiciro, trying to find a way to express his humor. Unfortunately, Avila did not think of it as funny.

"Humans throughout the ages tried to communicate with us, but with years of not being able to read and write have made us all into feral creatures with vast knowledge but with no mean to record them. Of course, to combat this, we have taught humans the ways of the dragon, including the language."

"Uh, sorry to interrupt your discussion," said Avila trying to cure her boredom. "But do you realize half of the work here are...obscene?"

"Oh!" exclaimed Erakor before he covered a clearly ancient draconic rock in front of Avila's point of view. He looked away in embarrassment, while Xiciro smacked his head.

"The truth is...the archive has more than just...scholarly knowledge, in human's term," said Erakor. "I mean, it's not my fault for preserving obscene knowledge, right?!"

"Better than not preserving it at all," said Xiciro with a smug smile.

"A-anyway," said Erakor clearing his throat. "Moving on...my work, as an archivist, is not only to preserve the works of my forefathers, but also to continue it. Argoons, unlike the Parusans and the Cerbesans, are isolated and mostly avoid fighting, at least for those living in Nia Baleth. We are, however, having a slight problem."

"Like what?"

"There are a lot of talks to end the thousand-years old isolation open our gates and Nia Baleth to the outer world. I know we need that, given how we are a dying race and you two are the only known Western Argoons that have ever been here. We want to go back to the West, to find lost knowledge our forefathers left in their haste of leaving the West. However, with the current condition and the Dragonsbane, many are still reluctant, especially around that dragon prison."

"Is it so bad that you fear it?"

"If it is about the eggs, we know they are beyond help," said Erakor with hesitation. "But it's not just the eggs. That prison...is not normal. Sure it looks like it from the outside, but what of the inside? What have become of the dragons? The horror and evil in it is beyond compare. Even Argoons, known to you Westerns as traitors, could not understand the darkness in it."

"So it is more like a dragon asylum than a prison," said Avila. "I mean, that's the only explanation to explain the evil of the place. In the world I was stranded into, asylums are the root of despair and evil."

"If that's the comparison, then so be it. But...will you look around Nia Baleth...and tell me your suggestion on the matter?"

"If you might...I want to discuss about these histories together. These lost histories intrigued me and I wish I can relay this to the Western dragons. Let Avila walk or fly around. Will you do it for me, my dear?"

Despite of wanting to object, Avila herself could not imagine staying shut in a barely lit room full of texts written in ancient language would be a good idea. But then, she wanted to know what made Xiciro so excited (though she could not ignore his 'my dear' remark). She silently walked away towards the door, which opened inward as sunlight poured into the room.

Maybe, if given the chance, she could read the rock detailing '40 Ways to Arouse your Mate by Tying them Up'. She would love to try that to Seraphor....