“I am grateful to have you back in any form,” Lindon said. “But I do admit, I was afraid I wouldn’t recognize you.”
“The lot of you need a shell more than you need fangs and claws.” Orthos glanced down at himself. “But…hmmm…I didn’t realize it would take so much soulfire to grow. And just as much to shrink.”
Lindon had a little experience in the subject, and he could recall information more efficiently thanks to Dross’ presence. Even if Dross himself was unconscious.
“That’s because you did it so quickly, and without practice. You strained your channels and your body. If you practice changing and do it gradually, you’ll lessen the strain and the cost.”
When Orthos looked at him, he felt compelled to add: “At least, that’s what it’s normally like for sacred beasts who take human form.”
He had absorbed memories from many dragons, and while he left the sorting of most memories to Dross, he had seen his share. But dragons almost exclusively adopted human form, which was the smoothest body in which to advance.
“I’ll find out for myself, now that we have time to practice.”
Orthos obviously felt something in their spiritual connection, because he eyed Lindon again. “We do have time, Lindon.”
“There’s still so much to do. The Dreadgods are still around, I’ve barely scratched the surface of what a Sage can do, the people from the Valley need somewhere to settle, and Dross…”
“A hunter doesn’t catch its prey by dashing at full speed all the time. You need a lair, Lindon. Even the most powerful dragon curls up and rests.”
Lindon glanced in the direction of Windfall.
“That’s a base,” Orthos rumbled. “But it could be a home. If you made it one.”
Lindon sighed and placed his hand on the wall of leather that was Orthos’ skin. “Gratitude. I’ll try. But I do plan to take a look inside the labyrinth. At least the outer edges, for now.”
“Maybe the greatest challenge I could give you is to keep your feet still for a month.” Orthos snorted out great plumes of smoke. “At least take us with you.”
“I’m not sure you’ll fit.”
“Then you’ll have to wait for me, won’t you?”
“Not just you. I don’t plan on going alone.”
Orthos grunted. “You should check the condition of the others, then.”
Lindon felt the turtle’s concern in his spirit. “Mercy?”
“She still hasn’t woken up.”
Mercy had suffered significant spiritual injuries after the Wandering Titan had shattered her bloodline armor, but even the attention of Little Blue hadn’t been enough to restore her. Her madra channels were connected to her Book of Eternal Night in a unique way that Lindon still didn’t understand.
If her life had been in danger, he would have contacted the Akura clan already. Even as it was, every hour that passed threatened the appearance of Akura Charity.
Now, the time had come for a more thorough inspection.
“I’ll take a deeper look,” Lindon said. “Heal well, Orthos. Don’t scare the Golds.”
Lindon flew off.
Left behind, Orthos twisted in the air. He reached out and munched into a pile of boulders the humans had piled up for him nearby. To his current size, they were little more than a handful of nuts.
As he crunched, he murmured aloud.
“Too big…”
The tears had long dried on Mercy’s cheeks. She shivered as she pressed her body against the cold stone wall, trying to build up the courage to peek around the corner.
In fact, the wall wasn’t stone. It was more like condensed madra with properties like stone. Nothing in this spiritual space was real, physically speaking.
But it was real enough to make her fingers tremble against her bow. She hadn’t come here consciously, so she hadn’t been able to bring Suu with her. Instead, she had Forged her own bow and arrows out of Strings of Shadow.
It was the only thing that protected her here, deep inside her own soul.
In the fifth page of the Book of Eternal Night.
This whole place was built from shadow and nightmares, and the Dream of Darkness technique hung like mist in the air. Every time she let her guard down for an instant, her spirit was flogged with terror.
And she wasn’t alone.
One by one, pale fingers slithered out of the darkness to grip the edge of the corner in front of her.
She raised her bow instantly, but something cold brushed the back of her neck at the same time. Mercy screamed and turned, coming face-to-face with one of the pale demons that haunted this nightmare world.