Miara sighed, and through the technique altering her voice, it came out as a musical whisper. “What other choice do I have, Northstrider?” The weariness in that statement made her sound older than her mother had ever been.
“I will help you hold out as long as I can. This situation is not without hope.” It was not like Northstrider to reassure anyone, and he still would not do so without basis. His oracle codex fed him information, especially predictions and simulations of the Dreadgods and what actions they would likely take.
“The Dreadgods’ ability to travel through space makes them more dangerous to the world as a whole,” he continued. “As does their intelligence. However, at their core, they have the same motivations. If you can make your city too difficult to consume, the Dragon should move on to easier prey.”
“If it can travel the Way, then we will always be under siege.”
Without his centuries of experience and the aid of his oracle codex, Northstrider might have thought so as well. “Their existence weighs too heavily upon the world. They cannot ascend, and they cannot travel freely, but they are still more mobile than they have been since the Dread War. Thus the Dragon is more likely to give up your city for another.”
“Maybe it will,” she said hopefully. “Though it seems wrong to hope that a Dreadgod will—”
Space cracked in half.
From the sky down through the clouds, a dark fissure appeared in the world. For one dark moment, Northstrider felt his fear return. He manifested his codex, terrified that it might display the same message it had before: “A destroyer has come.”
To his relief, there was no such message. But when he heard what the codex actually predicted, his eyes widened in shock.
A moment later, armies poured out from the crack.
At their head flew a beautiful woman with wings of golden lightning. She was followed by eighteen golden sparks—her famous flying blades—and dozens of her disciples. Like copies of her in miniature, they ranged from Archlord down to Underlord.
Their flight was mesmerizing to watch, but such was the reputation of Yushi, the Thunder Fairy.
The next to emerge was a cloudship almost as large as the Weeping Dragon itself. Its figurehead, shaped to resemble a lion, snarled as it pushed through. The ship was made of pale, golden wood, and its cloud base was white flecked with gold.
It flew dozens of flags, each white and gold: a lion’s head on a sun, a lion running across a field, three lions beneath a crown, and so on. All the banners of lesser houses that had sworn fealty to one great House.
House Shen had arrived.
Reigan Shen drifted down to Northstrider, who was both pleased and disturbed to note that for once, the Lion Monarch wasn’t swirling a wine glass. In fact, Shen was dressed for war, in elaborate silver-and-gold armor. Matching constructs hovered over each shoulder—they were Monarch-level launchers, each devastating but otherwise wildly different from the other, though they had been designed to match for aesthetic purposes.
Shen had a sword belted at his side, and he rested a hand on it casually as he lowered himself to Northstrider’s altitude. His hair and beard had been neatly combed and oiled, glistening white-gold like polished jewelry, and he bowed to Sha Miara.
“Monarch,” Shen said politely, “with your permission, we would be delighted to do battle against the Weeping Dragon on your behalf.”
Northstrider could see Sha Miara’s stunned confusion radiating from behind her shining mask. “Yes! I mean, we would be most grateful, and we will not forget the Rosegold Emperor’s assistance.”
Northstrider wasn’t so polite. He pushed his spiritual perception through Reigan Shen’s halfhearted veil and into the man’s armor, looking for a mass of hunger madra. He found it almost immediately, though it had been sealed away into a scripted and space-locked container.
The core binding of Subject One.
“What are you doing?” Northstrider demanded. He began to cycle his madra, even at the risk of attracting the Weeping Dragon.
It would be better to fight one of them now than risk fighting two of them on the same side soon.
Shen didn’t look alarmed in the least. “Would you prefer asking the moon for help?”
“I can trust the moon not to fall on my head.”
“My priorities have shifted. Yours should have too.”
“I know better than to trust—”
“The world has changed, Northstrider!” Reigan Shen shouted, and he had the roar of a lion in his voice. The clouds blasted away from him for miles, and Northstrider set his codex to monitoring the actions of the Weeping Dragon in case it was disturbed.