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Chapter One Hundred One

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The First built three new urd'thin to replace those who died. He returned the rest of his scattered children back to the oasis, and left them suspended in time. Now that he realized he had to build their consciousnesses just as he had built their bodies, he knew he had to be methodical about it. The First decided to start with a single mind to tweak and hone until he was certain he had it right.

He chose the female who had slain her brethren. The First was not angry with her, and he did not blame her for her deadly aggression. After all, she was acting only on the basest of instincts. She had been granted form and life, but no understanding. If he could forge her consciousness, then surely he could do so for all of them.

She looked like the desert. Her fur was the pale golden shade of sand, just before dawn. Darker streaks marked her eyes, while lighter, beige-cream hues extended along her arms, and legs. Even more than the others, she resembled the sand foxes he once witnessed scrabbling across towering dunes in another world. An urd'thin who epitomized the desert was the perfect place to start.

The First considered how best to start crafting her mind. The obvious choice was to use language as a foundation upon which to build all her knowledge. Should he let them develop their own tongue, over many generations? Should he invent a new one, for them? The First decided those options would take far too long. Besides, he wished to tell a story of urd'thin importance, not urd'thin development. The First wished for his urd'thin begin as a fully developed people, with language, customs, beliefs, and so on.

He decided it would be wise to select languages he knew that came with an appropriate base of knowledge to develop her consciousness around. The First drifted out of his vessel, freeing his understanding to sift through epochs worth of memories. Everywhere he had been in his long existence, he learned every language he encountered. In the same way, he absorbed every story, and learned of countless lives filled with triumphs, and tribulations.

Two languages stood out to him as especially suitable. One came from the world with the highest population of urd'thin. With it came an immense wealth of concepts and ideas, stories and histories. The second language was far older, and belonged to a long-vanished tribe who wandered their world long before it ever had a name. From their language came myths and beliefs befitting desert nomads. He filtered through each language, carefully removing anything that did not apply, or might endanger the purity of his new story.

Slowly and carefully, he wove fresh knowledge into her mind. He gave her equal skill in each language. They were similar in some ways, yet distinct and different enough that speaking one did not allow a full understanding of the other. Both were important to her people. One would be their common, everyday tongue, and the other a ceremonial thing that connected them to their lost ancestors. They did not need to know it was not truly their history the traditional words celebrated.

The First build everything else upon that foundation. He gave her a history, and through it, he gave her people a culture. They were the wandering remnants of a great tribe, following the rains from oasis to oasis. Her people had powers that other urd'thin did not. As such, it was their duty to use their powers to spread life, and build new villages. Some of them took up this duty willingly. Others were forced into it. She herself fled, afraid her people would take advantage of her great gifts, just as his friends once took advantage of his.

With her basic history filled in, he forged memories in her head. Glimpses of a childhood, centered around a well where she used to draw water with her mother. A mother she loved dearly, who grew deathly ill. The child healed her. From then on, the village did nothing but demand her more and more of her power. When she reached adult her, her mother bid her to flee and seek the tribe wandering the sands. After a long, difficult search, she discovered them. Each was from another part of the desert, bound by their gifts, and their duty to spread life across the desert. They had stopped at this oasis to build a village.

Next, her gave her a personality. Because of her dangerously aggressive instincts, he made her a warrior. He wove that into her backstory. Her mother was a warrior too, who taught her the ways of spears, blades, and unarmed combat. The First replaced her outright aggression with protectiveness and loyalty. She would fight for her friends and family, and for what she believed was right. She would not back down from a challenge. The First also gave her generosity and compassion, but her kindness would not prevent her from knocking some sense into anyone who needed it.

All day long, The First wove her mind like a spider spinning a web. It was impossibly intricate, but more he focused the easier it became. Just as building a web was instinct to spider, so to was crafting a conscious instinct to him. He simply had to _let_himself do it. Eventually, he believed her mind was as complete as could be without waking her. There were some gaps her brain would have to fill in on its own. But The First had one more thing to give her.

A name.

"Mica." The First drew blood from his finger pad, and dapped it on her nose. Then he pressed his muzzle to hers, and let his breath flow into her. "Your name is Mica."

It was not an urd'thin name. It was not a name at all, that he knew of. It was a word he took a liking too, from another world. It was a kind of mineral, shining in a stone. The First had glimpsed it before. When the sun hit certain rocks just right, the light flickered across the mica in the stone. And that was what she was to him.

A flash of light in the desert.

As his blood and breath flowed through her, they cemented the changes, and renewed her frozen life. At the same time, The First forged in Mica a great gift. All his children would have the power to reshape their world. Their abilities would allow them to shape the sand, to birth the rain, and bring the barren wastelands beyond the desert back to life. But he gave Mica something more. Something unique.

He gave her the gift of healing.

The First surveyed the rest of the suspended tribe. Past mistakes told him it would be wise to test Mica before he built any other consciousnesses. If there were flaws, mistakes, or holes in her mind, he could freeze her again and fix them. That would help him know what to do differently with the others.

Before he brought her around, he gave her recent memories of the journey with her tribemates, and their discovery of this oasis. There were squabbles and hardships along the way, but in the end friendships were forged, and they had all made it here together. This oasis could sustain them, and so they decided to build a village. The rest of the urd'thin were given names, taken from old stories. He planted all their names in Mica's head, and gave her a few memories of each, accrued in their travels.

Hopeful that he had not forgotten anything important, The First took a few steps back from Mica. Puddles and wet sand sloshed under his feet. It was still raining. He was lost in his work he scarcely noticed how wet, and cold he was. He cast the rain aside, and bid himself and Mica to dry. The puddles soaked into the sand, leaving it damp but not sodden. Now, at last, he was try to try again.

Shivering in anticipation, The First took a deep breath, and willed Mica to wake.

Mica gasped, and stumbled forward. She flopped onto her hands and knees, coughing. While she caught her breath, The First observed the many systems of her body. Blood flowed properly, and her lungs gave that blood oxygen. Her heart pumped it, her liver and kidneys filtered it, and so on. Everything worked as intended. Next, he observed her mind, watching as connections were made for the first time. Her brain lit up, neurons fired, and memories embedded themselves. In an instant, a whole life became real to her.

"Aaaaah!" She screamed, and grabbed her muzzle. "What have I done? Gods, what did I do?!" She pulled her hand back, staring at it as if baffled. "What happened?"

Confused, The First peered deeper into her mind. Though he had given her a memory of reaching this place, others superseded it. Her most vivid memory was tearing out the throat of another poor urd'thin. To her, that happened only moments ago. Adrenaline poured through her, her heart hammered. Fear, horror, and revulsion all twisted up her guts. She was about to vomit.

Oh. Right. This was trickier than he anticipated.

The First quickly reached into her consciousness, to dull the memory and let it fade. He implanted a new idea, in its place. It was only a nightmare. You've not harmed anyone. He followed her thoughts away, to make sure it worked.

Mica stared at her hand. Her fingers trembled. She rubbed her muzzle again, then pulled her hand back. Seeing no blood, she sighed in relief, her hand hanging. Just to be sure, she looked around for a body. While she saw no corpse, she did see a tall, lean, gray-furred urd'thin staring down at her. He was naked, male, and very unfamiliar. Lost in her confused thoughts, it took The First a moment to realize she was staring at him.

He looked himself over. The First hadn't actually thought this part through properly. He was not ready to shed his vessel, but neither had he planned on living amongst them. He had, however, completely forgotten to conceal himself from her. He lifted a hand, waggling his fingers as if just noticing them.

Without realizing it, The First muttered aloud. "I forgot I was still here."

"Who the hell are you?" Mica snarled, scrambling to her feet. Mica reached for the spear strapped to her back, but it wasn't there. She went for the knife at her hip, but it wasn't there, either. Searching for her weapons, Mica realized for the first time she was completely naked. She bared her fangs. "What did you do to me?" Mica changed her stance, tensing up in preparation for a fight.

"That's a very complicated question to answer." The First offered her his friendliest smile, unknowing of how oddly feigned it looked. "But nothing unpleasant. You just have memories of items I forgot to actually give to you. I'll remember next time. Weapons, clothes, and..." He glanced down at himself again. "I'd better make myself invisible, or something." He waved at her as if brushing off her concerns. "Don't worry, this is all just another dream, anyway."

Mica took a few slow steps towards him. Anger rose in her, like red waves washing from her mind. "You're gonna wish this was a dream if you don't give me some straight answers! Who are you, and where the hell are my clothes?" She balled her hands up into fists. "If you put so much as a finger on me while I was asleep, I'm going to rip off your-"

"That sounds profoundly unpleasant." The First scrunched his muzzle in distaste.

Mica paused, uncertainty rippling through her anger in green-blue shades. Suddenly, her perception of him was changing, less some vile bandit, and more some wandering lunatic. She turned to call out to the others, only to realize none of them were moving. Her eyes widened. Mica's jaw dropped, her ears flattened near her little horns, and her bushy tail tucked. Pale purple-toned fear replaced all her other emotions, rolling through her consciousness.

"Torm! Vakka!" She ran to the closest frozen urd'thin, a female and a male. She put her hand on the female's shoulder. "Torm! Torm? What's wrong?" Mica turned to the male, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him. He rocked back and forth, but otherwise did not move, did not reply. "Vakka! Wake up! What happened to you? Vakka, Vakka! Please, wake up!"

"Please don't do that." The First padded after her. "They're not ready yet."

"Ready?" Mica whirled around on him, panting. "Ready for what?"

"That's also a very complicated question to answer."

"Did you do this to them?" Mica held her arms out, warding him off from her friends. "You leave them alone!"

"Don't worry, I won't hurt them." He scratched his ear, a sudden itch developing. "Hopefully."

"What the hell does _that_mean?"

The First gave a low whine. "This is more challenging than I anticipated."

Growling, Mica eased around Torm and Vakka's unresponsive forms. "You did this, didn't you?"

"Technically..." He tilted his head. "Yes."

"Then why?" She inspected them, poking and prodding, trying to rouse them. "How did you do this?" Mica ran to another, looking him over. "And why did you take their clothes off?" She turned towards him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What are you, some kind of sex sorcerer?"

The First blinked, blinked again, and then burst into laughter. Never in all his mortal years had laughed that hard. It bubbled from him in ceaseless, musical cascade. He tried to speak through his laughter, but didn't make matters any easier. "Sex...sorcerer!?"

The concept was just so ridiculous, he couldn't stop giggling about it. Surely, no such thing existed. Then again, there were tales of incubus and succubus and other such creatures in some of the worlds he'd visited. Had he given her those concepts, or had she just come up with it on her own? If she invented it, then she was already developing an imagination. That would be a captivating development.

The First focused on her mind as Mica spotted some of his own spears, lying nearby. She picked one up to arm herself. He followed a few connections through her consciousness, and discovered that she had created the concept of a sex sorcerer all on her own. It originated in a fascinating chain of events. The stories he planted in her mind had created superstitions. Those superstitions in turn combined with her own burgeoning imagination, and she had dreamt up something new on the fly. The First thought this excellent news. It meant her mind was working even better than he'd hoped. He was quite proud of-

Mica hurled the spear at him.

It hit him straight in the chest, punched through his sternum, and pierced his heart. Agony filled The First. Coppery blood gushed over his tongue. He dropped to his knees, wheezing. The First grasped the spear, but it only made the pain worse. White light filled his vision. On a logical level, he realized the shock of having his heart pierced was shutting down his brain, and everything else.

"How..." He coughed blood, struggling to speak. "Unfortunate."

The First toppled over, bleeding out into the sand.

Consciousness faded from his vessel. As he returned to light and understanding, he perceived Mica approaching his corpse with caution. She prodded his foot, then his leg, and then finally stepped onto his stomach. She wrenched the spear back and forth, but the stone spearhead broke off inside him. Mica cursed its poor construction and cast the broken spear aside. She hurried to fetch another before returning to her comrades.

This time, she noticed the three new urd'thin, a little distance away. She ran to them, calling their names. When she neared them, horror washed over her. They had been turned into sand. The truth was, those three had never been anything but sand. He had not yet given them life, the way he had the others. But Mica knew them as living people. She had memories with them. Tears sprang to her eyes as she brushed her fingers over one of the sand sculpture's lifeless muzzle.

He needed to fix this quickly. But after so long spent in mortal form, The First's sudden return to understanding_was overwhelming. Now that he was accustomed to the limits of a mortal brain, those very constraints helped to things clearer. With the shackles removed from his mind, he felt as if he understood _too much. It was as though he was perceiving everything, all at the same time. Uncertainty rocked him. Was he even perceiving the present right now? He needed to collect himself before godhood would make sense, again. But he did not have time. Grief would drive Mica to madness if he did not help her.

It would be quickest to work through solutions in mortal form, The First thought. He returned his consciousness to his damaged vessel. The First forced his corpse to stand, but the movements were erratic, and exaggerated. At first, he was confused. It was as if he was manipulating a puppet, not his own body. Then he realized that exactly what he was doing. Until he repaired his vessel's heart, its lifeless form was little more than a marionette.

Movement drew Mica's attention. She whirled towards him in time to see him jerk a stiff arm towards his chest. His hand wobbled, limp. He forced his fingers into his chest, to clench the broken spearhead. But he used too much force, and several of his fingers visibly snapped. Nonetheless, he gripped the bloody stone fragment well enough to pull it free. The First tossed it aside. His heart knit together in an instant, his body closed around it. He willed his heart to beat, and fresh blood pumped life through his body once more. With it came the unpleasant taste of copper in his mouth. He spat a few times, then noticed Mica staring at him with wide, horrified eyes.

The First smiled through his bloodstained muzzle. "I'm sorry, but it's very inconvenient for me to be dead right now."

"What...?" Mica scrambled back. "What are you?" Before he could answer, Mica threw another spear at him.

It froze in midair.

The First tilted his head, one ear up, the other splayed. "I'm a god." He licked his nose. "I don't really like the term, but it's the easiest way to explain." He gestured at the spear and it floated back to Mica. "You can keep that, but if you throw it-"

Mica hurled it at him again.

This time, the spear stopped just in front of her, hovering. Mica grabbed it with a snarl, trying to yank it down. When that didn't work, she lifted her feet, hanging from it. She growled and kicked her legs, struggling to pull the spear out of air.

"That's adorable." The First perked his ears, grinning. "But it's not fair to act before I finish my threat, because now I cannot rightfully enforce it."

Mica kicked her legs again, swaying back and forth from the suspended spear. "How did you...?"

"Now. As I was saying. If you throw another spear at me, I'm going to have to freeze you in time again." The First turned away, and walked over to one of the other urd'thin, a male. He was pleased Mica called had him Vakka. Their names were settled in her mind, just as he hoped. The First ruffled Vakka's fur. It was darker than Mica's, a deep shade of brown. "I think I'll work on his mind, next. But I won't wake him until the rest are done. That way, you can all greet the morning together."

Slowly, Mica set her feet back on the ground. She released the frozen spear, staring at it with flattened ears and tucked tail. "What do you mean? Why did you put them to sleep in the first place?"

"I didn't..." He trailed off. Should he tell they'd never been awake in the first place? Though he could remove the memories, he was not sure how such knowledge would affect her. If he broke her mind, he was going to have to fix it. "I didn't want them to see me building their new friends."

_Wait, was that any better? _

"What are you talking about?" Mica skirted around him, heading towards the remaining spear. As soon as she picked it up, the previous one fell back to the sand. She pivoted towards it, growling. "That's not funny."

"It was to me." The First giggled to himself as he wandered across the makeshift camp sight he'd set up, towards the three urd'thin who remained as sand. He brushed his fingers across one's face. "These are going to be your friends. I think this one should be shorter." The sand sculpture shrunk, proportions shifting to suit its new height. "What do you think?"

Mica eased closer, one cautious step at a time. She kept her spear between them. Mica's eyes fixed on the one he was altering. "That one looks like Nemil."

"It is Nemil." The First walked a circle around Nemil. "Or it will be, when I'm finished with him. Do you think he's too short now?"

Mica wrung the spear in her hands. Ripples of blue-green confusion and purple fear washed across her. "I...I don't understand."

"I'm building him, see?" The First put a hand atop his head, then held it out over Nemil, comparing heights. He made Nemil a half-inch taller. "First I sculpt him, then I give him life, then I weave his mind."

"He's already alive! We...we hunted together, and..." Mica groaned, clutching her head beneath one of her horns. "What did you say you were, again?"

The First turned to Mica, peering deeper into her mind. There were discrepancies there now that she was having difficulty reconciling. He scowled. Mica wasn't supposed to know that her memories were all implanted. Yet here he was, babbling about the ongoing creation of a friend she clearly remembered hunting with. This was proving more challenging than he anticipated.

The First thought he needed a new explanation. "Nemil died."

"What?" Mica gasped, her whole body tensing up.

"No, wait, that wasn't how I should have put that." The First splayed his ears, contemplating the best approach. "You see, Nemil wasn't supposed to die yet. So, I've suspended time while I build him anew. Your tribe will need everyone bring this world back to life." He waved at the other two unfinished projects. "I'm rebuilding them too, because they, erm..." The First scrunched his muzzle. "Also died."

Mira looked from one to another, her jaws hanging open. Something new shone in her mind, a white star, growing brighter by the moment.

The First scowled, flicking his tail. "That didn't really help, did it? I'm sorry, I'm bad at this." He folded his arms, sighing. "This is my first time being this kind of god, you know."

Mica dropped her spear. All at once, her mind lit up, shining like a beacon. Her eyes returned to The First. She gasped, then dropped to her knees, and pressed her muzzle to the sand. The beacon grew brighter and brighter, transforming from a distant star to the sun itself. Mica believed.

The First wasn't sure if he liked that. Her belief was not what he desired. It was not needed. He existed with, or without, belief. At least it gave him a way to guide her in the future, without directly interfering. If nothing else, he could always wipe out her memories, later.

He gazed down at her, shuffling his feet in the sand. "Please don't do that."

"I never thought they were real." Mica's voice was muffled by the sand. "The tales spoke of gods, but...I'm sorry! I didn't believe. Please, forgive me!"

The First waved his hand. "You're forgiven. You don't need to believe in me, you just..." He paused, deciding this was a good time to deliver his first official godly commandment. "You must live a good life, and help others." Yes, that sounded good. "Please stop groveling."

Mica gave a low whimper, slowly lifting her face. "I...I attacked you! Oh, I didn't know!" She shook her head, frantic. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I thought...please, I beg your forgiveness."

"Stop that!" The First growled, and Mica buried her face against the sand again. "I'm not angry. I'd have thrown a spear too, if I thought my friends were some sex sorcerer's captives." The First giggled, and the laughter eased his frustration. "Sex sorcerer. You're so silly, Mica. Now please." He crouched down, trying to look her in the eyes. "Stop asking for forgiveness, stop groveling, and just..." He rose again. "Stand up. You're a proud warrior! I like you better when you act like it."

Mica struggled to her feet, but it was a slow process. Her legs shook, and her hands trembled. The First examined her mind. A grand mixture of fear, wonderment, awe, and confusion filled it. Those same emotions once rolled through the first humans he met. He had treated them to stories brought to life, but was less appropriate now. The First just hoped he hadn't overloaded her poor brain, or he'd be stuck doing repairs.

"May I ask..." Mica wrung her hands, swallowing. "Which god you are?"

"Which god?" The First splayed his ears, confused. Had he made other gods, and forgotten? "How many are there?"

Mica worked her jaws, but could not find words. She took a breath, composing herself. "Some stories say there are seven. Others less, or more. There's Coralym, and Mendicar, and The Mother Creator..." She rubbed her forearm, ruffling up her beige-cream fur. "Guess that one can't be you."

The First knew those names. They came from myths about gods in other worlds. Some were from urd'thin, others from dragons. He had not given her memories of those gods, though. But he had used stories to help give her people a history. He glanced into her mind, and saw a whole bevy of connections forging themselves. Mica's brain was filling in the blanks all by itself. It took bits and pieces of knowledge he'd inadvertently given her, wove them into a unified whole, and applied them to her.

"Your brain is fascinating!" The First reached towards her head, watching all the pathways light up as they connected. "I'm so glad it works."

Mica went cross-eyed staring at his hand. "Why wouldn't it work?" She gazed around at the other urd'thin, frozen in time. Her eyes lingered on those not yet alive. Suddenly, new pathways illuminated, new concepts formed themselves, and The First realized he said too much. "Oh, no! I'm dead, aren't I?"

"What?" The First dropped his hand. That wasn't the assumption he expected.

"You said..." Mica swallowed, licking her nose. "You said Nemil and the others died, but you were bringing them back to life." She moved to the nearest suspended urd'thin, staring at him. "But everyone else is still alive, just frozen. So why aren't _I_frozen? It's because I'm dead, aren't I? That's why I can see you."

"Yes!" The First smiled, but his smile faded as quickly as it came. "I mean, no. It's complicated."

Mica flopped onto the sand, groaning. She pulled her knees up, and rested her muzzle across them, with her arms around her legs. "So." She sighed, staring across the desert. "How did I die?" She gasped, touching her fingers to her muzzle. Memories of bloodshed flickered through her mind. "Did...did I kill them?"

The First grimaced. His first instinct was to tell her she'd only killed one of them, but that would do unpleasant things to her mind. This was getting complicated. "No! No, you died heroically!" He at the three urd'thin still waiting for life. "Trying to save them from a monster." He shaped vague memories into her head, based on his own experience of dying to a rakatch. "But it got you too."

Mica bared her fangs, shaking her head. She flicked her tail against the sand. "Better than falling out of a tree and bashing my skull open, I guess."

"Actually, that's not a bad way to die at all. It was quite instant for me. But getting a spear through the sternum? That hurt." He scratched his chest, the memory of pain left him itching.

The female urd'thin whined, flattening her ears. She opened her mouth, but her apology died on her tongue as soon as The First looked her way. "I didn't realize gods could die. But I suppose you just came right back, anyway."

The First ruffled his fur. "This body is my vessel. Physically, it's as mortal as you are, most of the time. Tonight was the fifth time I've died."

Mica gave him a sidelong look. "What happens when you die, then?"

The First shrugged, walking over to Mica. He settled down across from her, mimicking the way she sat. "I return to light, and understanding."

"I don't know what that means." She scrunched her muzzle.

"Do you know what's strange?" The First waggled his fingers alongside his head. "When I'm in this form, neither do I. Not completely, anyway. It's as if being in a mortal form makes it difficult to understand what, exactly, I really am. There's limits, I think, one what mortal brains can truly perceive." He rubbed at the base of a horn, considering it. "For example, when you killed me, all at once I knew _everything_again. I could perceive the entirety of the cosmos, if I but wished it. But now I look up..." The First tilted his head back, gazing up at the sky. A thousand twinkling pinpoints of light were strewn across the black expanse. "And I just see the stars. It's like a beautiful, blissful sort of ignorance."

Mica leaned back, peering up at the stars with him. "So there's more than just the stars?"

"Lots more."

"What about when you..." She canted her head, her ears up. "Perceive, did you call it? What can you see then?"

"Everything." The First smiled. "All at once, if I want."

"That sounds terrifying." Mica shrank into herself a little.

"Yes, it does." The First chuckled. "But it's different when I'm not in a vessel. It makes sense, then, when I'm just..." He paused, searching the right words. "Light given thought, and_understanding_. I don't know how else to put it in mortal terms. I understand existence on a fundamental level. I can see how everything works, and I can wander the cosmos. I can lose myself in every story from every world, but I don't really..." He sprawled out on his side, running his fingers through the sand. "I don't feel. Not the way I do in this body. As light, I can touch things and know them through, and through. I know what heat is, but until I was in this body, I'd never felt hot."

The First scooped a handful of sand, and let it run through his fingers. "I know what elements compose the minerals that make up a grain of sand, but I didn't know what sand felt_like." He traced lines in it with a finger. "Or water! I can perceive hydrogen and oxygen molecules that bind and form water, and I can understand its taste through someone else's mind. But until I made this body?" The First sat back up, smiling. "I'd never truly _tasted water. It's wonderful! Water, I mean. And life, too. It's all wonderful."

A smile crept across Mica's muzzle. "You're baffling. It's as though you're impossibly wise, and incredibly naïve at the same time."

"That's right!" He wagged his tail, stirring up sand. "While I accrued great wisdom as a god, as a mortal I'm still learning. I think my understanding is quite limited by my brain. If I cast off my vessel, I'd remember important truths, and realize all the mistakes I was making. Yet, I find I don't want to. I like this mortal life, and wish to continue experiencing it. I think it's for the best, anyway."

The First leaned towards her, ears up. "I want your story to be perfect, Mica, but that would disingenuous. Lives are never perfect. They're filled with mistakes, and troubles, and problems. Mortals know as much pain as they do joy. If I returned to godhood now, I could ensure that every step of your life was filled with happiness. But that would be..." His ears drooped. "Wrong. You'd be dulled to it, and joy would have no meaning. So, I think I must live as a mortal alongside you, even if you never know I'm there. I will guide you, but I will not control you. And I know I'll make mistakes. Your lives will be difficult, but they'll be yours. They'll be real. Does that make sense?"

Mica stared at him with wide eyes, her muzzle agape. "Nothing you've said makes sense." She took a deep breath, leaning back onto her hands. "But if you're saying you have the power to make our lives perfect, and yet you refuse? Then part of me wants to call you names no one should never call a god." She laughed, soft and incredulous. "But another part of me knows you're right. If you made everything perfect, then we'd only be..." She flicked her tail, grunting. "Puppets, in some happy story you're telling. And that wouldn't be fair to us, at all."

"No." The First swallowed, glancing away. "It wouldn't. But I'm going to give your people a duty. A purpose. It'll be up to you to try and fulfill that purpose."

Mica gave him a long, silent look before speaking. "Or walk away from it."

The First slowly turned his head back to Mica. He had not considered that they might _refuse_their duty. "You're right." A smile stretched across his muzzle. "Whether you fulfil your duty or not, the choice will be yours. They all will. And so will their consequences."

She perked her ears. "Maybe you're wiser in this body than you think." Mica gazed out across the sands. Darkness still covered the land. The sunrise would not come again until he willed it. "So, what now? For me, I mean." She swallowed, waves of lilac anxiety rippling through her. "Is there an afterlife I go to? Or do I work with you? Or..." The lilac deepened into darker purple fear. "Or do I just fade?" Mica shivered, squeezing her eyes shut.

The Question caught The First off-guard. For the first time, he realized he had not contemplated that. What did happen to his creations when they died? What became of the three he already lost? An afterlife was not something he ever sought to perceive before. Part of him felt such a thing lingered, just beyond the edge of his perception. If he cast off his vessel, and focused his understanding, could he find an afterlife? Or did it exist beyond even his great perception? Just as Mica was mortal compared to him, was it possible he was mortal compared to something greater still? Or could he create an afterlife for his creations?

He did not know. But for Mica...

"For you? None of those things." The First smiled at her as he pushed himself back to his feet. "_You_just go back to sleep. When you wake, all your friends will wake and greet the dawn with you. You'll have lots of work to do, to turn this place into your home." He held out his hand, offering to help her up.

Mica gasped. "You're bringing me back to life?" Happiness flooded her in gentle hues. She reached towards his hand, then paused. "Wait. You're going to make me forget this when I touch you, aren't you?"

"Yes." He kept his hand extended. "But I don't need to touch you to do that. I'm just offering you the chance to take my hand, while you understand what it means."

Mica lifted her trembling hand, and clasped his. For the very first time, The First knew touch and contact with another. Her pad was warm, and soft. When she gripped his hand, the pressure brought strange comfort, as if...as if she understood...

"It must have been lonely." Mica swallowed, squeezing his hand as he helped her up. "Before you were...this. Before us."

"It was." The First's determination wavered. "I don't think I realized it, at least..." His tail went limp. "Not the way I do now." He led Mica back towards the others. "But it's nice to have met you, Mica."

"You never told me which god you are." Mica followed him, gazing out at the desert with wide eyes, as if seeing it for the first time.

"That's because I didn't have an answer. I don't think I'm any of the gods you know. Or maybe they're _all_me. The only people who ever knew me before, called me The Storyteller. But I don't like that name anymore." When he reached a suitable place for Mica to rest, The First gestured at the ground. "You should get comfortable."

Mica did no such thing. Instead, she stood in front of him, lifting her hands towards his face. When he did not stop her, Mica brushed her fingers over his muzzle. Her touch was shaky, hesitant. She smoothed back his fur, touched his ears, felt his horns. "You feel just like an urd'thin."

"I am." The First stroked her arm, ruffling her fur. He gently eased her down onto the sands. "Lie down, now. When you wake-"

"Wait!" Mica clutched at him. "I don't want to forget."

"You have to."

"Please..." Mica's grip drifted down his arm, ruffling his fur. The feeling made him shiver. "Don't make me forget. I want to know."

"But if you know-"

Mica sat up, her eyes shining even in the darkness. "You said we get to choose, right? Then I choose to remember this. I choose to know. Please, let my make my own choice."

The simple, daring bravery of it stunned The First. The first of his urd'thin, and already, she was defying her god. It was inspiring. And she was right. If he genuinely wanted this to be their story, he had to let them make their own choices. For good, or for ill.

"So be it, Mica." He brushed fingers across her head, just between his horns. "When you wake, this will be as a dream, but a dream you will remember."

"Thank you." Mica smiled at him from the sands, and an instant, she was asleep.

"Sleep well, Mica. This story begins with you."

*****

Chapter One Hundred Two

*****

Just before dawn, Revaramek flew alongside his mate towards the the city of Refuge. He cradled Korakos in his arms. Today was his family's first visit to the city, and Revaramek wanted them to have a chance to see it before noisy crowds filled its many labyrinthine streets. Nyra spent much of the trip in anxious silence. Revaramek had made it clear that they could return home at any time, if she grew uncomfortable.

Nyramyn's first real look at human habitation came from the farms and tiny villages dotting the sprawling marsh beyond the city. Lines of hedges and fences cut through the wetland, outlining properties, crop fields, rice paddies, and livestock pens. Homes, stables, and storage buildings dotted the landscape. Boardwalks and bridges spanned deeper sections of water. A few little inns sat at intersections, surrounded by a handful of vendor stalls. Several wagons with shipments of produce or animals were already on the roads, headed for Refuge. Nyra stared at it all in wide-eyed silence, while Korakos slumbered.

An immense, towering wall was visible in the distance as dawn's first blush crept across the land. It was far larger, and far more imposing than anything protecting Refuge in Revaramek's youth. The city had grown vastly since then, and so had its fortifications. Though the city's leadership declared Refuge open to all, they were not so naïve as to believe war would never again visit them. However, the grandiose walls were built in cooperation with their former va'chaak enemies, and now protected all species who sheltered inside them.

That wall was far from the centralized hill and borders that once defined the town. While Revaramek spent his happy years with Nyra, Refuge grew and grew under Mirelle's care. In the peaceful but lonely years since his return, that growth continued. The little village on the hill that once bound him to its service was now a grand city with multiple districts, each with their own varied cultures and architectures.

Va'chaak and urd'thin now made up a large portion of the city's population. Each brought with them their distinct influences. The va'chaak carved edifices and sigils into their woodwork. Their homes and buildings had sloped roofs, as their construction methods were designed deal with the strong winds and storms of the eastern marsh. Urd'thin liked elevated things, with lots of twisting, spiraling designs. Their native section of the marsh was especially flood prone, so they were accustomed to living off the ground. Their houses and structures were often constructed on rounded stilts, or built around massive trees. One of the city's urd'thin built an inn amidst a cluster of ancient willows. Revaramek thought it looked like little more than rope bridges, hammocks, and woven canopies amidst swaying boughs.

Revaramek was happy the truce forged with the va'chaak after the war had blossomed into a lasting alliance. While there would also be those misguided individuals who harbored lingering animosity, for the most part the city's inhabitants now knew great friendship amongst its peoples. The War had claimed many lives on both sides, and some of those wounds would never heal. Yet together, the humans and the va'chaak found a way to overcome their grief, and move forward together.

It seemed strange for Revaramek to think back now, and realize the city's bloody clash with Asterbury's va'chaak army happened before he even met Nyramyn. Those battles began and ended on the same day he returned to the swamp, in order to trap Asterbury there and save the marsh. Nowadays, the people of Refuge simply referred to that event as The War. The name came about organically; it was simply the way people took to referring to it. Though it lasted only a day or so, it was the only true war the city's current residents had ever known. Though short lived, the conflicts were brutal, and Revaramek was glad his family did not have to witness them.

Over a dozen gryphons now called the city home, as well. Kurekka and Chir'raal were its first official residents, with Kurekka serving on the city's governing council since Mirelle first took over. Their example, combined with the city's growing friendship with the other peoples, inspired more gryphons to join them over the years. Chief among them was a female Revaramek referred to as Jay Bird. Jay Bird and her mate were the first to move in, and had now long served as two of the city's top security officers. There were several other mated pairs, including one family with the most adorable little ball of gray fledgling fluff Revaramek had ever seen.

Though Revaramek remained the only dragon to officially consider himself a Refuge citizen, a half dozen now lived within no more than several days flight. Occasionally they visited the city to wander about as if in awe that the place would welcome dragons. Some of them even shopped or traded at the city's market. Further away, some of the other cities in the marsh had taken in their own resident dragon protectors, including the town where Enora owned a chain of taverns. Once Nyramyn and Korakos were ready, Revaramek wanted to take them to visit those other dragons. It would do Nyra good to see their people were alive and well here.

"It's huge!" Nyramyn spoke up as they swept over the walls, and she finally had her first real look at a city. In the purple light of dawn, the world below was a patchwork painting of roofs and roads, wooden buildings and stone walls, alleyways and alcoves. Smoke rose from chimneys. "There must be so many of them!"

"There are!" Revaramek lead her into an easy bank. The plan was to lead her in a loop around the city before landing near Mirelle's house. "But, I promise-"

"Are you sure this is safe?" Nyramyn cast Korakos a worried glance, but her gaze soon drifted back to the rambling sprawl of stone and wood structures beneath them. "Mirelle was very kind, but..."

When Nyramyn trailed off, Revaramek offered her a comforting smile. "Korakos is very safe here, Nyra! I promise. Besides, I saved this city's ass, and I assure you, everyone here knows it!"

A smile crept across Nyra's muzzle despite her nervousness. "Probably because you're always reminding them."

"Exactly!" Revaramek laughed, flying across a newer district. "This is where many of the va'chaak live!" He pointed towards a wide, cobbled plaza closer to the center of town. "And that's where one of my statues is! You should see all the banners the old grans put up around it, in springtime! In fact, they-oh!" The first golden rays of sunlight glinted off something shiny in the center of the plaza, like polished armor. "Is that the Tea Kettle? He's up early, even for him!"

"I have no ideawhat you're babbling about." Nyramyn followed him as wheeled towards the large hill rising up in the middle of the town. "I hope you're not expecting me to remember all those funny words."

"Sorry, love," Revaramek said, grinning. "I'll try to keep my muzzle shut."

"That would be a first!" Nyramyn snapped her jaws at him.

Revaramek forced himself to keep quiet, biting back both his retort, and his many explanations. Despite his natural urge to explain everything, he knew it was best to let Nyra take things at her own pace. If she asked questions, he would answer them. Beyond that, there was plenty of time for her to explore the city when she was ready. He could teach her about banners, booksellers, knights with ill-fitting helmets, and the many industrious old grans later.

"Are those castles?" Nyramyn pointed towards the ornate buildings decorating the summit of the hill that loomed at the city's heart. "Like from your stories?"

On the north side of the hill's flattened summit was headquarters of the city government, called The Hall. Built of limestone and wood, the building was elegant but heavily fortified. Beautiful arches and curves adorned its several tiered stories. Stained glass windows and skylights depicting serene images from the city's history added splashes of brilliant color. Across from it was the headquarters of the va'chaak's governing elders. It was a large, wooden building carved with intricate designs and symbols, and sharp spires pointing at the heavens. Between the two structures was a shrine, built by the va'chaak. The hill was sacred to their people, but the plaza around their shrine was a welcoming place for all to visit and know peace.

"Close enough!" Revaramek banked towards the far side of town, where Mirelle's home awaited. "I'll explain the differences-"

"I wanna see the castle!" Korakos wriggled in Revaramek's forelimbs, peering down.

"It's over there, love!" Nyramyn pointed them out, and Korakos stared with wide, awe-filled eyes. "I guess the word stories was all it took to wake him!"

"Father!" Korakos patted Revaramek's forepaw. "I wanna go to the castle!"

"Not now, little one." Revaramek carefully shifted his grip to make sure Korakos had a good view, but could not wriggle free and fall. "I'll take you later!"

"But I wanna _see_it!" Korakos gnawed his father's foreleg, growling.

Revaramek rumbled laughter. "I know, I know, you must retaliate against my fore leg for this most grievous of slights. But Mirelle's waiting for us!"

"Me-rell?" Korakos wriggled around to stare at his mother instead. "Momma, I wanna see Me-rell!"

Nyramyn giggled, following Revaramek. "We're going, we're going."

"I'm glad you two like her!" Revaramek adjusted his course. "Hopefully we're not too early. Oh, well, if we have to be awake, she does too."

"Is she not awake?" Nyramyn matched his adjustments. "I thought she was hunting our breakfast?"

Revaramek glanced over. "Mirelle, hunting? Now there's a funny image. No, she'll purchase the food from the market and...nevermind." He waved off Nyramyn's confusion. "I'll explain later. She is planning a feast for us, but it may not be ready till midday. I'm sure she'll prepare breakfast too, if we ask nicely."

The familiar bell tower of Mirelle's tavern The Cathedral jutted up above the landscape in the distance. Where the bar once brushed up against the outer edges of town, now the morning sun cast beautiful fire across countless buildings surrounding it. The wall that once signified the town's border now only divided Mirelle's expansive property from the rest of the city. Her sprawling gardens and pond were now an oasis amidst clay tiles, thatched roofs, and cobbled roads.

Revaramek descended through whispers of gauzy woodsmoke, lining up for a landing. Already, there were a few more people out in the streets. Some of them stared up at the dragons, waving. Others called his name. He waved back, but kept his focus on his destination, and his mate. He didn't want to overwhelm her with too many people all at once.

"Are you ready to land?" Revaramek glanced at his mate. She flew a short distance off the end of his wing tips. Her flight was steadier now, but still not as tightly controlled as it had been in the swamp. "Or do you want to keep circling a while? People are waking, though. Or we can return home, if you're not comfortable."

"Let's just land!" Nyramyn dipped a wing, following him closely. "I have to get used to this place eventually. Speaking of which, why does the breeze smell so funny?"

"It's the cook fires! Humans cook their food." He pointed to a wide swath of grass near Mirelle's beloved pond. "Land in that big open space!"

"Really? I should land in the big open space?" Nyramyn cast him a sly look. "And here I was, planning to crash into that building!"

Revaramek smiled as he swept in over the tavern, and the line of trees enclosing its patio. "At least your wit's returning." He touched down on his hind paws, just beyond the trees. Then he hopped a few paces, set a front leg down, and eased Korakos to the grass. "Don't run off."

"My wit never left!" Nyramyn landed behind him, then trotted up alongside him. "I was just giving you a break from being constantly tongue lashed."

Revaramek glanced back at his mate, frills perked. "You can tongue lash me any time you-"

"Not in front of Kor!"

The dragon snorted to himself, tossing his head. "Well, of course not in front of him. When he's asleep, maybe-"

Nyramyn nipped his chin to cut him off. "You know what I meant. At least, I hope you do. If not, you're an even bigger fool than I recall."

Revaramek thumped her with his tail. "That would be impossible."

"You're right. I could never imagine how big a fool you truly are." Nyramyn perked in smug amusement. Then she tilted her head towards Korakos, now staring up at his father with wide bronze eyes. "Well?"

"Well, what?" Revaramek shrugged his wings.

"Well, now he's wondering what you're talking about." Nyramyn mimicked Korakos, staring at Revaramek.

Revaramek splayed his ears. "Why am I in trouble? You're the one who drew his attention to it!" He tilted his head towards Nyra. "Ask your mother what we're discussing."

Korakos turned his head to stare up at his mother, instead.

"Don't look at me, love," Nyra said, shaking her head. "Your father's the one with the big mouth."

Korakos pivoted back to his father, head cocked. "It's not _that_big."

"Your father has a mouth bigger than you know, little one." Nyramyn lowered her head and gave the hatchling a few gentle licks. "Why don't you look around?" She glanced at Revaramek. "It's safe here, right?"

"Of course, Nyra. I'd never bring him anywhere that wasn't." Revaramek pointed to a tall line of pine trees. "Stay on this side of those trees. And stay out of Mirelle's house." He pivoted around, gesturing at the dome-shaped building. "That's it, over there. Oh, and don't go into her garden. She hates that."

Korakos stared at the trees, the house, and the garden as Revaramek pointed them all out. Then the glittering of dawn sunlight on clear water caught his eye, and he turned towards the pond. "I wanna swim in the water!"

Revaramek couldn't help but laugh. "You've spent days surrounded by water, and when I finally bring you to the town, you want to swim again?" He shook his head, rumbling his amusement. "Alright, go ahead."

"Swimming!" Korakos broke off in a full sprint towards Mirelle's fountain pond. "I'm going swimming!"

"Can you blame him?" Nyramyn nuzzled Revaramek's neck, purring softly. "He's never been able to swim before. Not safely, at least. Even I'm still in awe of of seeing so much water that's..." She rested her head against him. "That's clean."

"No, I can't." Revaramek returned her affection with a few tender licks, then lifted his head to call after Korakos. "Don't eat Mirelle's frogs!"

Korakos spun around to back at her father. "But I'm hunnnngryyyy!"

"You're always hungry! That's how I know you'd eat her frogs. But don't! They're off limits. And so are her fish! And everything else in that pond." Revaramek sharpened his tone. "You understand?"

"Yes." Korakos hung his head so low his muzzle brushed the grass. He trudged towards the water.

"Why can't he eat them?" Nyramyn watched Korakos until the hatchling's hungry disappointment was overwhelmed by his excitement to swim again. He picked up his speed and leapt into the pond with a gleeful squeal, sending croaking frogs fleeing for their lives and water lilies bobbling across the surface. "Are they poisonous?"

"No, but if he eats them?" Revaramek scrunched his muzzle. "It's going to be hazardous to _my_health."

Nyramyn cocked her head, frills flattened in confusion. "Why?"

"Because they're Mirelle's," Revaramek said. "If he eats Mirelle's pets, who do you think will get in trouble?"

Nyramyn smirked at him. "Ah, so you're afraid your slave mistress will beat you again."

Revaramek chuckled, shrugging his wings. "You know, you could defend me, instead of making jokes."

"Defend you?" Nyramyn pulled her head back, looking him over. "You're a grown dragon. Defend yourself. Besides, you've known her longer than you've known me. I wouldn't want to interfere in your long-standing mistress-slave relationship."

"We do not have a mistress-slave relationship!" Revaramek shook his head, fighting back laughter. "If he devours her frogs, I just don't want her to take it out on my..." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Balls."

"Why not?" Nyramyn gave him a look that was far too innocent for its own good. She flicked her tail towards Korakos, happily paddling about the pond. "They've already done their job."

"Hilarious." Revaramek hissed through his teeth. "They'd like to get a chance to do it again, too."

"Oh, would they?" Nyramyn flared up all her spines. "You'd best run that idea by me, before you run it by them."

Revaramek backed away. "It's only a thought. Once you're fully recovered, it might be nice for him to have a few siblings to play with."

"A few?" Nyramyn's eyes widened. She stalked closer, snapping her teeth. "Just how many eggs do you expect me to bare you, in this little fantasy you've concocted?"

"Oh, no, you're not dragging me into that sort of discussion." Revaramek lowered his head and tucked his tail, thinking it better to submit immediately than risk her wrath. "It was only a passing thought. If you don't want any more children, we won't have any more children."

"I didn't say that." Nyramyn lowered her head to nuzzle him. She licked his nose. "It's just something we're going to have to discuss together. I'm not about to start letting your balls make decisions for both of us."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Nyra." Revaramek lifted his head, smiling again.

"Good." Nyramyn gave his nose another lick, then turned to watch Korakos. "It certainly wouldn't be...well, I'd have to far healthier, first."

"Which you will be." Revaramek cupped her chin in his paw, and pulled her muzzle back towards his. "That's not a possibility, Nyra. That's a promise."

"I appreciate your conviction, even if I won't entirely let myself believe in your accuracy." She gave his paw a grateful lick.

"Then I'll believe in it twice as hard, for both of us." Revaramek pressed his muzzle to hers, and gently kissed her.

Nyramyn returned the kiss, then eased away. "As sweet as that is, I don't think that's how it works."

"It works however I say it works." Revaramek rested his chin on the top of her muzzle, smiling at her.

"And you say it works because..." Nyramyn narrowed her eyes. "Your former god-enemy put a dream in our son's head, and swore many years ago that 'something' could save me. Is that about right?"

Revaramek flicked his ears back, smile twisting into a scowl. "Well, when you put it that way, it does sound slightly crazy. But yes, that's the gist of it."

"Most of what you say is a little crazy." A cold, haunted glimmer passed behind Nyramyn's eyes. "Rev, have you considered it could all be a lie? This could revenge, for him. To give you something to hope for, and lead you into a trap! Or make you watch me-"

"No." Revaramek's voice a razor-honed claw, cutting off all argument. "Don't even think like that. If he wanted revenge, he'd have taken it out on me years ago. Asterbury could have cast me into that swamp to die, and you two still would have made it here, safely. But he..." Revaramek stared at his son. Korakos paddled after frogs, giggling when they knifed through the water ahead of him. "Asterbury didn't want_to separate us. He wouldn't want to separate _you. I've told you before, but family is the one thing I genuinely trust him about. If he says we can save you, we can damn well save you."

"Alright, Rev." Nyramyn's voice was soft, but her eyes shone, bright and full of hope. "I believe you."

"As you damn well should." He nosed her, then pulled his head back, grinning. "And then when you're nice and healthy, we'll have fifteen children."

"Fifteen?" Nyramyn hissed, shaking her head, her wings flared. "Oh no! If you think I'm laying _fifteen_eggs, I may as well tell your slave mistress and her boots to finish what they started!"

"Alright, alright." Revaramek brushed by Nyra, bumping his hips against hers. "We'll settle for an even ten."

Nyramyn nipped at his tail fins. "Keep it up, and you'll be lucky if you can still make a _second_by the time I'm ready."

Revaramek glanced back as he walked towards the Cathedral. "Now you sound like Mirelle!"

"Maybe her methods are rubbing off on me." Nyramyn glared at him.

"Oh?" He paused. "Well, speaking of-"

"No, I won't be rubbing anything of yours until you drop the attitude." Nyramyn perked her ears, smug. "And just where are you going?"

"To find Mirelle, and see about breakfast." Revaramek's belly rumbled at the thought of food. "The feast may take a while, yet, so I'll ask what else she has available for us. Later on, the gryphons and some of my other friends would love to meet you, if you're willing."

Nyramyn tilted her muzzle in faux-haughty display. "Perhaps. If Mirelle's funny human food pleases me appropriately."

Revaramek smirked at her. "If not, I'm sure I can please you."

"That would be a first." Nyramyn giggled at him. "Besides, I said appropriately." She waved him on with a wing. "Now go find your starving water ally something to eat."

"Yes, your beautiful and patient majesty." Revaramek bowed his head to her, then hurried off to the tavern.

A trellis nearly as tall as Revaramek encircled the expansive outdoor patio just behind The Cathedral. Emerald vines wreathed the trellis, dotted with purple and blue flowers. The entry gates were wide open, and Revaramek strode inside. All the tables and chairs that normally occupied the area were now stacked up against the tavern's walls, or relocated to the two-story seating deck nearby. In their place were long, low-set oak tables, polished smooth. Such tables were usually used by groups of gryphons, and were more suitable for quadrupedal guests than traditional tables.

The tantalizing smell of roasting meat wafted from The Cathedral's open back doors. Revaramek licked his muzzle, struggling not to drool. Hunger gnawed his belly with near painful intensity. Light shimmered and glowed against the stained-glass windows lining the walls. People bustled behind them. The Cathdral's back doors were large enough even for dragons. Seeing they were propped open, Revaramek padded inside. The intense aromas of cooking food hit him even harder.

At least a dozen people hurried about the tavern, slicing meats, pouring sauces, filling drinking bowls, and plating food onto Mirelle's finest platters. Revaramek licked his muzzle, and padded towards a silver tray already laden with roasted lamb. Just as he reached for it, Beka was there. She slapped his paw away so suddenly she may as well have just materialized from the ether.

"No!" Beka shook her finger at him. "Not till it's ready! You don't get to start without your family."

"Can I start without my family when it is ready?" Revaramek dropped onto his haunches, sighing.

"Certainly not!" Beka put both hands against his chest plates and pushed. "Now move your scaly ass."

Revaramek wriggled his haunches against the floor.

"Not in the mood dragon!" Beka grunted and pushed again. "We're terribly busy in here, and you're very much in the way. I've not stayed up all night supervising your family's welcome feast just so you can mess everything up at the last moment. Now move aside or I shall do with my boot what Mirelle does with hers!"

The dragon grunted, quickly rising to all fours to move his valuables out of range. "Oh, very well. At least you're more polite about it."

"Consider that politeness your only warning!" Beka turned away and called out the kitchen. "Tavaat! How're the goats coming?"

A moment passed before the green-scaled va'chaak poked his head out through the kitchen door. He gave the dragon a bleary-eyed smile and wave, and then glanced at Beka. "Getting close! Another hour, or so."

"Oooh, you're roasting goats?" Revaramek licked his muzzle a few more times, finding it increasingly difficult not to start drooling like an oversized hound.

"Pygmy goats." Beka smirked. "Two on a spit, and two in the big brick hearths we had built last year." She waved her hand at him. "Now go wait outside."

"But we're hungry now." Revaramek watched a female urd'thin in powder blue clothes carry a basket of baked apples out of the kitchen, and over to a table. "Oooh, those look good."

"I'll have something prepared to tide your family over." Beka stomped her boot, and thrust a finger towards the back doors. "Now wait outside!"

"Fine, fine." Revaramek started to turn around, only for Beka to grab his tail.

"Mind your damn tail, you're about to knock food on the floor!"

Revaramek grumbled to himself. "I'll mind smacking you upside the head with it."

Beka guided his tail till it was out of range. "You do, and you'll get nothing to eat."

Once he was clear, Revaramek took a few steps towards the exit, then paused. "Where's Mirelle, anyway?"

"She went to make sure Kurekka and Chir'raal were awake and presentable. After they arrive, they'll wait inside here until your family is ready to meet with them." Beka wrung her hands, and gave him a smile. "And I hope, to meet the rest of us."

"I couldn't well let the people behind this fine feast go unknown, could I?" The dragon laughed as he walked back outside. He paused and called over his wings. "Unless it's terrible. And then I'll _definitely_make sure she knows who made it."

Revaramek waited outside until a trio of urd'thin kitchen staff carried out an immense handled bowl. The bowl was filled with scrambled eggs, speckled with hints of herbs and spices. Pieces of bacon and chunks of sausage studded the mixture. The workers set it down, bowed to him, and then hurried back into the tavern. Revaramek picked up the handle in a forepaw, then carefully hobbled back to Nyra, doing his best not to spill any of the food.

As he approached, Nyra hurried over to him. "What is that?"

"Eggs!" Revaramek set it down in front of Nyra. "The feast will be a few hours, I think, but this should tide us over till then." He lifted his voice to his son. "Korakos! Come eat!"

Nyramyn tilted her head, staring at the mound of fluffy, perfectly cooked food. "Where are the eggs, exactly? Under this mushy stuff?"

Revaramek chuckled. "That's not mushy! It's fluffy! Beka's staff makes perfect scrambled eggs, and..." He trailed off, scrunching his muzzle. "Gods, even I feel far too civilized saying that."

Nyramyn ignored him, sniffing the food. "It smells good, at least. What's in it?"

"Eggs, and-"

"What sort of eggs?" She sniffed it again. "Doesn't smell like screechbird...scorpion toad eggs? Those aren't good for you, you know."

"Bird eggs, love." Revaramek put a finger to her nose, asking for patience. "Local birds. They're cracked open, mixed up and cooked over fire." He pointed out hunks of bacon and sausage, but decided to keep his explanation as simple as he could. "Mixed with pieces of meat, from other delicious animals. Just try it."

Nyramyn hesitantly ate a mouthful, then crooned as she swallowed. "Oh, Gods, Rev, it's delicious. Have some!"

Revaramek smiled, stroking her neck. "You and Korakos eat your fill. I already had some while I was in the tavern."

Nyramyn bumped him with her nose. "A honorable lie, but a lie just the same."

"How do you know I'm-" Revaramek's own loudly rumbling stomach cut him off. He glanced down at his belly. "Traitor."

Nyra licked his nose. Her breath smelt of scrambled eggs, now. "Eat, Rev."

Revaramek did so, but he was careful to make sure Nyra got more food than he did. When Korakos bound over, he pulled his head back to give the hatchling plenty of room to dig into the bowl. Korakos didn't even ask what he was eating, just hungrily devoured as much of it as he could. As soon as he'd had enough, he turned and ran back towards the pond, announcing his departure with a loud belch.

"Chatty boy, our son." Revaramek smiled, watching Korakos leap back into the pond and return to paddling after frogs.

With their hunger eased, and the sun rising into the sky, Revaramek took Nyramyn on a tour. He showed her Mirelle's garden, and tried to explain how all the fruits and vegetables tasted. She had so few reference points that it proved challenging. For now, he just promised her that soon enough she'd get to taste every delicious thing the world had to offer. Next, he let her peek into the windows of Mirelle's home, to see what a human's house looked like.

Revaramek walked her around the ponds Korakos was enjoying. He explained they were built around a natural spring, like the fountain in their home. Soon, they walked along the line of pine trees that divided Mirelle's personal property, from the tavern's grounds. Several trees in the middle were only half-grown. Revaramek explained that a long time ago, Asterbury rearranged the trees with his powers, leaving a gap. Mirelle had planted seedings in the open space, and in the years since they'd grown about half as tall as their brethren. Nearby was a children's play area build in a patch of sand. The sand, too, was a remnant of Asterbury's visit, when he nearly lost control of his anger, and sorrow. Nyra was a little unnerved, but Revaramek assured her that was all long in the past.

When the tour was complete, Revaramek took Nyramyn to watch people move in and out of The Cathedral from a safe distance. Revaramek sat alongside her and draped a wing across her back to shelter her. Nyramyn's eyes were wide, and her frills flared in cautious curiosity. She stared at the humans, and gaped at the urd'thin. Revaramek chatted with her, answering any questions she had. As the morning wore on, activity picked up, and soon Tavaat ventured outside with some of the other kitchen staff.

Nyramyn gasped, staring at Tavaat. "What is that?" Her voice was a hushed whisper, and she pressed herself against Revaramek.

"Tavaat?" Revaramek licked the back of her neck. "He's a va'chaak."

"Is he...you know..."

"No, I don't know." Revaramek nosed at her. "What are you trying to ask?"

Nyramyn circled a paw as Tavaat vanished back into the building. "You told me that you and a human female used to share pleasure."

Revaramek scrunched his muzzle. "Now is an odd time to be getting jealous of something from many decades ago."

"I'm not jealous." Nyramyn nipped him. "I'm just curious. Is he...well, he's not yours, is he? What did you call him?"

"Tavaat is his name, and va'chaak is his species. And what did you mean he's not mine?"

"Vaaaaa. Chaaaak." Nyramyn struggled to form her muzzle around the unfamiliar syllables. "Is that the name for...well, is that what happens when a dragon mates with a human?"

Revaramek gaped at her, and then burst into laughter so loud and raucous that the tavern workers all turned and stared across the yard at him. "Oh, Gods. No! Is that what you think he is?"

"How should I know?" Nyramyn huffed and thumped her tail against the grass. "I've no idea what manner of strange rituals might have resulted in all the odd life here." She turned her muzzle up, looking away. "It was only a guess. You needn't laugh at me."

"I'm sorry, Love." Revaramek licked her neck in gentle apology. "No, va'chaak are not some half-breed species. They're perfectly natural." He paused, a smirk creeping across his muzzle. "Besides, now that you've seen humans, it should be obvious a dragon would never fit in a human female."

"Most dragons, perhaps..." Nyramyn arched her neck, peering down between his hind legs. "You, however, would fit just fine."

"Hey!" Revaramek swatted her, curling his tail. "That's just cruel."

"Consider that your repayment for laughing at me." She tossed her head, turning her gaze back towards the bar. "Besides. Surely a human male could fit in a female dragon."

"I..." Revaramek scratched his neck with the wing opposite his mate. "I imagine he could, yes. I also imagine she'd be incredibly disappointed."

"I didn't say it would be enjoyable for her." Nyra watched humans carry food to the distant tables. "Only that it was possible."

"And as always, you're right." Rev nudged her cheek with his nose. "But I don't think such a union can produce offspring. No more so than a dragon and gryphon mating would produce offspring."

"Would it not?" Nyra tilted her head, her ears swiveled forward.

"To the best of my knowledge, no." Revaramek gestured with a wingtip. "I believe young only ever come from same-species coupling."

Nyramyn snorted, snuggling him beneath his wing. "You have the oddest conversations."

"What?" Revaramek curled his neck, staring at her. "You started it! Don't you try and shift the blame onto me."

A smile stretched across his mate's slender muzzle. "I shall shift whatever I like. So, if you and a human female do not fit, how did you and your human lover..." She licked her nose. "You know, please each other?"

Heat flooded Revaramek's frills. He couldn't tell if Nyramyn was genuinely curious or seeking some new way to embarrass him. "How do you think?"

"I should imagine you two did some of the things we do. Only, when we do them, you finish far too early." She cocked her head, giving him the most innocent look she could, ears perked. "Did she also have such complaints?"

Revaramek tossed his head. "I'm not dignifying that with an answer."

"That sounds like a yes, to me."

As Revaramek struggled to extricate himself from the situation, he spotted a welcome distraction in the sky. Kurekka and Chir'raal were flying over the city, heading for the tavern. Mirelle rode on Kurekka's back. Revaramek nudged his mate, then pointed to the gryphons. Nyramyn peered up, and when she spotted them, her frills flared. She pressed tightly against Revaramek. He hugged her under his wing, cooing to her.

"Easy now," Revaramek said, licking her ear. "They're friends."

"Those are..." Nyramyn swallowed. "Gear fins, right?"

"Correct." He decided against correcting her pronunciation. "The one carrying Mirelle is named Kurekka. His mate is called Chir'raal."

"What funny names they have." She stretched her neck out from under his wing, staring at the gryphons as they circled the tavern. "They look like oversized leg-birds!"

"A little." Revaramek cringed at the memory of devouring the smaller, gryphon-like animals. "Now you can see why I was squeamish about eating-"

"They're not half as hideous as I imagined they'd be!" Nyramyn smiled, watching them descend till they vanished behind the tavern.

Revaramek cackled, clapping his forepaws in wicked glee. "Oh, oh gods! I have to tell them you said that!"

Nyramyn ducked her head back under his wing. "Won't they be offended?"

"I certainly hope so!" Revaramek set his paws back down.

"I don't want them angry at me." She nosed at his wing joint.

"Don't worry, Love," Revaramek said. "They'll only be angry at me."

In the distance, Mirelle emerged from the back of the Cathedral to survey patio tables increasingly laden with food. She moved a few trays around, then called out more servants. Workers carried out ever more fanciful platters of food. Beka joined Mirelle, and together they directed the staff, showing them where to place things, and how to arrange the presentation. The more food that arrived, the hungrier Revaramek grew.

When everything was finally ready, Mirelle waved for the dragons to come join her. By then, Revaramek was starving again. Surely, Nyramyn was as well. The eggs earlier in the day were delicious, but only a snack for a family of dragons. Revaramek licked Nyra's neck, and rose to his feet.

"Ready, my love?" He kept his wing stretched out, shading her.

"No, but I am hungry, so that shall have to do." She pushed up, glancing towards the ponds. "Korakos!" Nyramyn dropped into a stretch, her forepaws splayed out in front of her, haunches in the air. "Come along! It's time to eat! Then we'll meet more of your father's friends!"

"I wanna meet Father's friends!" Korakos clambered out of the water, sprinting across the yard before Nyramyn had even finished stretching. He zipped right past them, pausing only when Revaramek called out for him to wait.

Revaramek returned his wing to Nyra's back when she finished her stretch. Her gently squeezed her with it, escorting her to the patio. The long tables were now laden with platters of food of all kinds. The cooks and tavern workers retreated inside to keep Nyramyn from feeling too crowded. Revaramek planned to thank them all for their hard work, later.

Mirelle stood before the main table, dressed in a formal emerald blouse, and dark gold breeches. Her curly black hair was tied behind her head with matching green and gold ribbons. Mirelle tucked an arm across her stomach and bowed before the dragons. When she straightened, she waved towards the long tables. "This way, if you please."

"You're quite formal today." Revaramek followed her towards the largest of the three tables. Korakos bounded along at Mirelle's heels, while Nyramyn stuck to Revaramek's side.

Mirelle looked back, grinning. "You did say your mate likes things formal, did you not?"

"So she does." Revaramek nuzzled Nyramyn's neck, slipping into the swamp dragon tongue. "Councilwoman Mirelle and her friends have prepared a welcome feast for you, to formally welcome you to their city."

Nyramyn smiled, sniffing at all the tantalizing scents in the air. "Is that tradition here?"

"I think it is now."

Mirelle stopped and gestured at the table. "Revaramek, I'd like to give you a rundown of every dish, so you can explain to Nyra what she's eating. You and your family can eat first, and then everyone else can help themselves. When Nyra's ready, I'll introduce Beka, Tavaat, and the gryphons. If your mate's not overwhelmed by then, I'll bring Jekk and Enora out, as well."

"That sounds perfect, Mirelle." Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Korakos climbing up onto one of the tables. "Hey! Korakos! You wait."

The hatchling froze, one paw hovering in the air. "But I'm hunnngrrrry."

"Mirelle and her people have worked very hard for this." The dragon fetched his son and set him down on the grass. "If we have to wait, so do you."

Nyramyn glanced at him from under his wing. "Why do we have to wait?"

"Because Mirelle is making everything as formal as she can for you." Revaramek swept a paw at the tavern. "There's a lot of people in there who spent all night making this for us."

"That's very kind." Nyramyn licked her muzzle, her belly rumbling. "But we are going to eat soon, aren't we?"

"As soon as Mirelle tells us what everything is." He licked his mate's neck, then switched into the common tongue. "Go on, Mirelle."

Mirelle walked them along multiple tables overflowing with every imaginable kind of food. Nyra stared at it all with wide eyes, pausing often to sniff at things, or prod them with a few unsheathed claws. Revaramek could scarcely imagine what she must have thought of the bounty this world provided, or all the strange ways of preparing it.

The first table was covered in fruits and vegetables. Baked apples were sliced and layered with a sauce made from fresh berries. Glazed pears sat alongside roasted potatoes and other tubers. Sweet, sticky rice filled one enormous bowl, while another had rice that was spiced and fried. Plump figs wrapped up in thinly sliced meat were arranged in circles on silver platters. Melons with colorful rinds and pale flesh lay in big wedges, the seeds scooped out but otherwise untouched. Leafy greens were fried with spices and garlic.

Four whole pygmy goats formed the centerpiece of the middle table. Each goat was served on its own platter. Two were roasted on spits over open flames, their skin crackling and blistered. Juices dribbled and mingled with the rich sauce ladled across the platter. The other two were stuffed with sweet fruits, then slow cooked inside the tavern's massive brick ovens. All the organs were utilized other dishes. Some were made into sausages, others became stews, or marinated in wines and spices and seared on hot stones.

There were myriad other meats available, too. Roasted lamb was served in slices and chunks, edged with sweet, crispy skin. Game birds and foul adorned the table, each presented with a different kind of sauce. Some were sweet, others earthy and rich, or redolent with heat and spice. Seafood occupied the ends of the table. Immense fish with golden scales had been smoked for hours. A fat bowl held hundreds of tiny fingerlings, salted and flash fried. Some fish had smooth, gray skin and long whiskers, served with a spicy sauce. Others had rainbow hued scales and were stuffed with vibrant, fresh herbs. There were also many varieties of shellfish, from crunchy crayfish to mussels as big as Revaramek's forepaws. One plate held plump water-bugs, fried and drizzled with honey.

Desserts smothered the final table. Cakes large and small rested alongside an immense selection of pastries, some soft and others crispy. One bowl was filled with a lightly fermented mixture of sweet beans and honey. Balls of sweet, sticky rice were fried up and served with cream. Fruits were cooked and layered into pies and tarts. Cookies and sugary fried doughs filled little spaces between everything else.

When they came to the end, Nyramyn stared at the feast as if in a daze, her jaws hanging open. "I had no idea that so many kinds of food even existed."

"And you shall come to know them all." Revaramek nuzzled her, gesturing at the tables. "I should forewarn you, this is a very rare, very formal sort of feast. It's meant to welcome you to your new home. Humans do this sort of thing to celebrate special occasions."

Nyramyn nodded, lowering her voice. "There's no way we can eat all this. Where will we store the rest? How many days will it last before it spoils?"

Revaramek laughed, shaking his head. "Nyra, love, we aren't meant to eat all of it. Mirelle's throwing this feast in your honor, but it's meant to be shared amongst everyone here."

Nearby, Mirelle wrung her hands at the mention of her name. "I hope she likes it. I know it's not sort of thing dragons would eat in the wilds. But Beka and I thought it was important to give her a taste of the sort of things the city can offer her."

"No, no, Mirelle, it's wonderful!" Revaramek smiled, hugging Nyra with his wing. "I think she's a little awestruck, is all. If you'd let her eat her fill, before the others come out, I think that would be easiest for her."

"Of course." Mirelle offered Nyramyn another formal bow as Revaramek translated. "I'll let you eat, and I'll be back to check on you soon."

"Can we eat now?" Korakos hopped around as Mirelle returned to the Cathedral. He pawed at the air as if reaching for food he wasn't allowed to eat. "I'm huuunnngrrrrry."

"Yes, Korakos," Revaramek said, laughing. "Go ahead and eat."

Revaramek immediately realized he should have phrased that more carefully when Korakos leapt onto the center table. The hatchling scrambled down it, knocking one plate of food over and sending others scattering in his wake. He skidded to a stop near the goats, claws gouging the polished oak. Then he grasped a roasted goat, and buried his muzzle in the luscious meat. Korakos gulped down a few big mouthfuls, then lifted his head to beam back at his parents. Juices and bits of skin coated his pebbly scales.

"It's good momma!" He took another big bite. "It's so good!"

"Kor, don't eat so fast!" Nyra slipped out from under Revaramek's wing to join her son at the table. "You'll make yourself sick."

"At least if he vomits, there's plenty more to eat." Revaramek nipped at her tail before moving up alongside her.

Nyramyn glared at him before the food drew her attention. As her gaze wandered from dish to dish, her belly rumbled so loudly Revaramek half thought it would rattle her scales. She licked her nose, and then whimpered, hanging her head. Her ears drooped.

"What's wrong?" Revaramek nuzzled her.

"There's so much food, I don't even know where to start." Nyramyn rose back to her feet, walking along the table. "I almost feel guilty! This could have fed so many of us in the swamp, when I was young." She paused, staring at Rev. A strange, haunted shine flickered in her eyes. "Rev, what if there are still others back there, struggling to survive? Do you think someday, we could..." She trailed off, sighing.

"First, Nyra." Revaramek put his paw atop hers. "We get you healthy." He licked her nose. "Then_we can talk about all that. I don't even know if there are any gates left, there. But for now? I want _you to be happy. You're with your family. You're safe. And your son will never go hungry again. Isn't that worth being joyful over?"

A smile slowly spread across Nyramyn's beautiful green muzzle. "It is." She returned the lick, and then turned back to the incredible feast. "Where...where do I start?"

"Let's start at one end, and move to the other." He stretched his wing across her, escorting her back to the first table. "Let me show you the wonders this world has to offer."

Revaramek guided Nyramyn through the banquet, a tour of flavors and textures. He wanted his mate to get to try everything, but knew her body was not used to rich food. Revaramek asked Nyra to try small bites of each dish. Whenever a succulent morsel made her shudder, purr, or groan and roll her eyes, he knew they'd discovered a new favorite dish. Revaramek wanted to remember all the foods that got the best reactions, so he could have them made for her again.

While they sampled everything in an orderly fashion, Korakos sprinted around, randomly stopping at whatever dish caught his attention. He leapt from the meats table onto the desert table, landing squarely in a chocolate cake. The hatchling licked frosting from his paws, then devoured part of the squashed cake. Next, he jumped back to the ground and hurtled all the way back to the fruits and vegetables. He clambered up and gorged himself on a plate of roasted root vegetables cut into even triangles.

Nyramyn watched him, her eye ridges furrowed in worry. "He's eating too much."

"He's not going to burst, Nyra." Revaramek stroked her foreleg.

Nyramyn called out to him anyway. "Korakos! Why don't you rest a bit? You can eat more later. You don't want to give yourself a stomach ache, or throw up your food!"

To Revaramek's complete lack of surprise, Korakos ignored her. Rev squeezed Nyra's paw. "When he gets uncomfortable, he'll stop eating. Now, unless you're uncomfortable, shall we continue?"

"If I eat much more..." Nyra surveyed all the foods left to taste. "I fear I'll have to spend the afternoon lounging in the sun."

"And the problem is?" Revaramek perked his ears, grinning at her. "If you're feeling comfortable and lazy, you'll be be less nervous meeting other people."

"Worth a try, I suppose."

Revaramek led Nyramyn onward through the feast. Both dragons were able to sample everything on offer. He was pleased that Nyra did not find a single food she disliked. Everything was new to her, and all of it was enjoyable. Even Revaramek discovered foods he'd never tasted. Some of the dishes and ingredients were of va'chaak origin, others urd'thin. Revaramek found their foods just as delightful as those made by the humans.

By the time they were finished, Korakos was already dozing in the sun. Together, the dragons made a good dent in everything available, but plenty of food remained for the rest of Mirelle's guests. Revaramek knew Kurekka and Chir'raal wouldn't have a problem with eating from the messy tables left behind by hungry dragons, but he wasn't so sure about the other humans. Hopefully anyone working for Mirelle, or invited to a feast with dragons, knew what they were getting into.

"I think it's time we let everyone else have a go at the feast." Revaramek led Nyramyn towards the patch of Korakos was dozing in the sun. "I think our son has the right idea."

"That he does, though if you fall asleep, your snores will drive away your friends." Nyramyn padded a few slow steps alongside him. "I'm so full I feel like I'm with egg again, and waddling about." She nipped a scale. "No jokes."

"Wouldn't dream of it, my dear." Revaramek settled down and curled around his son, leaving a wing open for Nyra.

She snuggled under it, laying against him. "I must admit, that was..." She tilted her head. "Indescribable."

"In a good way, I hope?" Revaramek curled his wing across her.

"A wonderful way, Rev." Nyra bumped his muzzle with her nose. "Do tell Mirelle it was delightful, and express my gratitude."

"I'm very glad to hear that! She will be, too."

For the moment, Mirelle was busy directing other guests towards the feast. That was fine with him. Revaramek was content just to lay in the sun with his family, and see joy shining anew in Nyramyn's eyes.