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Yes, but why would I? My previous selves used to roost here, you know, back before the humans built their cities.

“How did you die?”

The dragon’s head swiveled away from Griff, and it didn’t respond.

Griff cleared his throat before saying, “My mother died when I was young, so I never really knew her. And my father, well, you know what happened to him.”

For a moment, he thought the dragon wouldn’t speak, but it said, more softly than usual, My last body was sacrificed for humanity.

“Why?”

As if you don’t know.

“I wouldn’t ask if I did.”

You spoke its name earlier.

“Zhos killed you.”

In a sense. While it didn’t actually wield the weapon that smote the dragons, Zhos’ existence was the cause.

“How would killing dragons stop Zhos? I don’t understand.”

And I don’t wish to tell you. Recalling my untimely demise is upsetting.

“I’m sorry to ask, I’m just trying to understand.”

It is frustrating to discover the blooded have forgotten everything, but I will explain. Try to pay attention this time, though, as I don’t wish to have to keep repeating myself.

“You have my full attention,” Griff promised, eager to learn all he could about his dangerous captor.

As mentioned previously, dragons aren’t like humans and animals with their messy methods of procreation.

When one dies, the essence, the spirit, if you will, with all its memories, including that of its death, is transformed so it might return.

After the death of a body, it was the task of the blooded to retrieve the ova and hatch it by placing it in magma. A ritual as old as my kind.

And one passed down through family lines—Griff’s family line. Why had he never heard of it? The only thing he could think was that when the eggs were left in Fraegus Spire the ritual had been abandoned, and over time, dragons and everything about them became forgotten.

Only, after my last expiry—and that of the other dragons, which happened by their own hands as part of the plan to contain Zhos—the blooded did not accomplish their task. It was with great surprise upon emerging from my shell that I discovered more than a thousand years had passed.

“I think I know why these blooded folk didn’t follow the ritual. I was told the five stones, er, eggs,” he stammered in correction, “were what’s been keeping Zhos from being able to spread its influence outside its prison.”

Prison? Zhos remains in our world?

“Yes, under Fraegus Spire. Buried in a lake of ice and, until Basil stole them, also protected by the eggs. Er, you.”

That wasn’t supposed to be what happened, though. The blooded betrayed us, the dragon hissed. Used us to save themselves.

“I guess. I don’t actually know what happened. Just telling you what I know.” Then because the dragon appeared willing to talk, he ventured to ask, “What is Zhos? Is it a dragon like you?”

How insulting. Argent reared on its hind legs.

“Sorry, just trying to understand since we’ve no written record of it.”

Zhos is a being from another world. It arrived via a conduit between our dimensions, a corridor that closed shortly after. Its power allows it to enchant the living into doing its bidding.

“Kind of like a puppet master.”

That is an apt comparison. Upon its arrival, Zhos set out to destroy the living.

Would have succeeded, too, if the dragons hadn’t been sacrificed to keep it contained.

It was only supposed to be for a short time, though.

The humans were tasked with locating a weapon that could destroy Zhos once and for all, only it appears they failed in that task.

Or never bothered to even look. Argent huffed hot hair from its nose before asking, Why would they when the only cost to imprisoning Zhos was dragon lives?

“I take it would be bad if Zhos escaped.”

Very.

“Well then, you might want to help me because, as I mentioned, those eggs being removed has allowed Zhos to start fucking with people. They acted as some kind of shield that blocked his influence. Avera was supposed to retrieve and return the eggs to stop Zhos from spreading his malicious influence.”

So that is why she took them, the dragon mused.

“Avera has the eggs?”

Yes. She took them with her on that ship.

Griff might have been more relieved but for one thing. “That ship wasn’t going to Daerva to stop Zhos, but to Merisu.”

Dry and dusty place. Never cared for it.

“Did you hear me? The stones are going to the wrong place.”

I’m sure the blooded female will get them to correct their course. After all, the blooded are to be obeyed.

“Maybe in your time, but not anymore. Avera is a prisoner. She won’t get a say in where she goes or who gets the eggs.”

And?

“And we need to do something before Zhos escapes.”

We? The last time my kind got involved we died. As if that weren’t enough, humans left us to languish for more than a thousand years, breaking their vow to keep us in the egg for a short period of time while they figured out how to eradicate Zhos.

Griff almost replied that humans did it to protect the world. Thing was, he kind of understood Argent being peeved. How would he like it if he’d been kept dormant for the safety of another species?

“Aren’t you worried about Zhos escaping and ruining the world?”

Sounds like a human problem to me.

“Until this thing comes after you.”

Apparently, it was the wrong thing to point out as Argent suddenly lifted into the air and flapped off. It would seem the dragon didn’t like the truth, but at least it had relayed some interesting information… which did him no good, since he was stuck.

Annoyed for too many reasons to count, Griff hiked to the top of the citadel. The vantage point was high, just not high enough to see beyond the mist steaming from the ocean. Would the lava never cease its flow?

Griff had hoped to be able to see his ship. Alas, he’d have to climb much higher and even then he might not see anything. If only he had a way to send a message and let his crew know that he still lived.

A sigh escaped him as he planted his hands on his hips and leaned back to bellow at the sky. “Argh!”

It did little to ease his frustration, but the sun on his face did feel nice until a cloud passed over. He opened his eyes and watched a thick puff of white drifting overhead. The idea hit him suddenly.

It took some time to drag the furniture pilfered from the closest rooms to the topmost point of the citadel. Once he’d lugged numerous chairs and tables, he took a rusted axe to them. He needed as much kindling as he could muster to build a bonfire.

As the pile of wood grew, Griff then encountered a new dilemma.

How to light it? It took more time than he liked to hunt down a working flint.

Meanwhile, midafternoon arrived, leaving little time for him to get a signal going.

A smoke signal Kreed would hopefully notice and understand.

Assuming he could get it to rise above the fog.

The tiny flame Griff sparked ignited the dried cloth he’d brought. It sizzled and crackled, smoking heavily before spreading to the pile of rubbish he’d created.

As the fire expanded, greedily consuming the dry fuel, he stood back and watched as first a tiny wisp of black smoke rose, a tendril that fattened as the inferno grew.

The dancing flames sparked and crackled, but best of all produced a lot of smoke that rose higher and higher. Higher than the mist. A dark blot in the sky that had him grinning.

Surely those on his ship would see it. See it and know someone lived.

A shadow overhead had him looking in time to see Argent swooping low, aiming right for him.

Wait, not him. His fire.

With a grace that belied its size, the dragon landed on top of the inferno and smothered it. The large head dipped low, and it sounded smugly amused as it said, How kind of you to signal for a snack.