Well, if you are enjoying this story, please do drop a comment. Feedback is always nice.

A lot of effort goes into writing, and it's a bit sad when no one comments.

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.Chapter Twenty-One: The Descent

Morty had never been one for exploring caves. He found nothing appealing about walking through narrow twisting pathways with nothing but a torch to provide light. At least in the forest there was always an escape route. Here in the caves? The exit was hard to determine. But he wasn't a coward; he wasn't going to turn back around and leave. His work in Blackthorn hadn't been completed yet. The remaining relics had to be found.

"You know they say there are odd creatures that dwell in these caves," Falkner said, walking ahead of Morty, holding the torch forward to light the path. "Arbok, murkrow, spinarak… "

Even though Falkner couldn't see his reaction, Morty frowned. "Never heard of them before."

"Well, arbok are cobras that spit venom at you. I've heard they can blind you permanently if you get some in your eyes. Then we have zubat. They're blind, but they gather in caves and they can poison you too. Lastly, the spinarak. These spiders sometimes show up in our homes. They're about the same size as an adult male's hand. They are also poisonous, but that shouldn't be surprising," Falkner explained, taking a sharp turn to the right. The smell of water filled the air.

"Sounds like the perfect creature to have as a companion," Morty noted. "Perhaps I'll capture one and leave it in your bed should you dare speak of my identity to anyone in Blackthorn… But then again, why would they believe you? Your word against mine. You don't have any proof."

"If I were to die now, could you bring me back?" Falkner said, changing the subject. He lowered his head and ducked through a tight opening. "You are a necromancer. That imp spoke of blood magic."

Morty crouched down and slowly waddled across the floor, following Falkner through the opening. Once he reached the other side, he climbed to his feet and sniffed the air. Water. "No. I don't have the power to do that. It takes a lot to resurrect the dead. We're called necromancers because of how we use the blood of the dead and the living to channel our powers - not because of our power to bring back the dead. If we could do that, then Blackthorn would be overrun with dead now."

"So how does it work?"

"And why do you want to know?"

Falkner glanced over his shoulder. "What harm is there in telling me? We could both die here."

Morty snorted. "According to my superiors, the power to raise the dead is connected to three holy relics. If those relics are brought together and combined as one, they'll do the job. These relics belonged to the High Priests – the people who introduced magic to this land."

"And it's your job to find them."

"Correct."

"And you haven't succeeded."

"I wouldn't be here if I had."

"Sounds like a bland world to live in," Falkner replied. "What would even be the point if everything is dead anyway? It would just be you lot and then in-fighting would occur and there'd be another war. You can't stop conflict. It's in our nature to fight."

For once, he didn't have anything to respond with. As much as he didn't want to admit it, Falkner was right. Their existence would be short-lived. What if they lost control of the dead? What if the relics fell into the wrong hands? "It's all I've ever known," he murmured. Fighting for a just cause and he believed it.

Falkner continued to move through the twisting caverns bypassing a small water pool. Up ahead, Morty noticed a bone pile near the water's edge. The clothing had been chewed apart by rats and the flesh consumed by other creatures leaving only the bones behind. His eyes turned to the grinning skull.

"You know I always found it chilling that we're always smiling in the inside," Falkner said, looking at the skull. He shuddered. "Remove all the flesh and there's a grin."

"Yes, it's certainly morbid isn't it?" Morty glanced down at the skeletal remains. How had the person died? Had they died of starvation? Had the person been attacked by a creature and eaten alive? Or had the person gone mad and killed themself? Every person had a story whether dead or alive. "I wonder how this one died? And I wonder how much they knew about the world." His eyes then noticed a golden ring around one of the index fingers. Dropping down to his knees, he pulled the ring off and examined it closely. It was odd how the ring remained.

Falkner dropped down beside him. "What is that?"

"It's a ring," Morty replied, rotating it between his fingers. He looked at it closely. The second of the three holy relics. Chuck had said it had belonged to Ghetsis. "Wear the ring and it will turn red," he murmured, slipping the ring on a finger. Nothing happened. Perhaps it was just some normal golden ring and not the one he was looking for.

"Not the one you are looking for?" Falkner said, a pensive look on his face.

It was as if the man was trying to decide whether to kill him or not but lacked the courage to make a move. Morty shook his head then removed the ring. "No." Upon further examination, he noticed there were antlers engraved into the ring. A devout religious follower of Arceus. Morty climbed to his feet. "This ring belonged to a holy man of Arceus. Don't the clerics at the church wear these?"

Falkner brought his face close then nodded. "Yes, they do." He looked at the corpse. "What was a holy man doing here?"

"Looking for treasure it seems. I suppose he thought the ring would protect him from evil." He put the ring back down on the corpse's finger. "Arceus abandoned him to his fate. Your god doesn't care."

"You can't prove that. The man was on a holy mission. He gladly would've died."

"Didn't help the mages much. I'm sure there are mage followers of Arceus." He turned away from the body. The ring was pointless.

"We should return the ring. It could belong to a family member," Falkner said.

Morty shrugged. "Take it if you want. I don't care. You believe in Arceus don't you?"

Falkner kneeled before the body and removed the ring. He slipped it on a finger. "I do."

"Why?"

Silence then, "Because of balance. Good can't exist without evil. There is no evil without good. It keeps the population balanced even if it seems cruel. Some people feel stronger knowing there is a god out there watching over them. It gives them faith and confidence in themselves," Falkner explained. "Faith will make even the cowards among us find the strength to enter the darkness."

Morty rolled his eyes. "If you had an ounce of magic in you, you'd do well with my people with that sort of loyalty. I don't agree with your beliefs, but I can respect that. Loyalty is hard to find."

"Are you not the same?"

He opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. Was he truly any different from the devout followers of Arceus? He believed in the Phoenix who didn't have a physical form either. At least, not what his people had ever seen. "I believe in a holy cause. A better world for our people." Even if it took raising an army of the dead to achieve that goal.

"And followers of Arceus want the same thing. Peace. We believe in something greater than ourselves. We pledge our allegiance to a god we cannot see, but we know exists. That's faith. So, ask yourself – are we really any different?" Falkner climbed to his feet and started walking along a narrow path across the water pool.

"I do what needs to be done. You're a soldier. You know what it's like. You're given a task and you have to do it." He walked across the bridge and joined Falkner on the other side. Now they were standing before two paths both leading downwards. One led to the right and the other to the left. He gestured to the right. "I'm sure you can relate. We're just here to be used by the people higher above us. We don't get a say in the matter; secrets are kept from us on purpose to keep us under their control," he mused. He thought of Naoko. Did she even truly care about him? There had to be reason why she had never promoted him to a higher rank.

"We're both soldiers in a war," Falkner stated. "But I don't know if we are on different sides. There's nothing to stop you from killing me right now. I'd try to defend myself, but I'm no mage. You could kill me…. But you haven't."

"And you haven't killed me either. Not that you could if you tried," Morty replied.

"You're awfully confident."

Morty faced him. "I don't need magic to defeat you. Besides, there'd nothing to gain from killing you," Morty replied.

Falkner took the right path and walked down the gentle slope, placing his free hand on the left wall to support himself. "Why are you so determined to retrieve these relics?"

"Because I'm the only one who can."

"And what if your leaders dispose of you afterwards?"

Morty shook his head. "They won't."

They descended the slope and entered another cavern. There was another pool of water here but unlike the previous cavern, there was no bridge to cross. The only way of passing through was to swim to the other side. Morty suppressed a groan. Fortunately, he wasn't wearing heavy armour opting for the armour made of animal hide, but still the water would seep into this clothing and weigh him down. Not to mention the smell that would accompany him as he dried out.

"I have a question you, Falkner. Why are you here? You know what I am. You could just turn around and leave right now if you wanted too…. Return to your people and tell them who I am." He paused for dramatic effect then added, "But I think I know why. You stay because of the promise of glory."

Falkner shook his head. "You're wrong."

"Oh, I think I know you better than you know yourself," Morty replied, bringing his palms together. He pointed at Falkner. "The other soldiers and Chuck do not think of you highly, but with me they're starting to pay attention to you. Perhaps you could rise above what you are – a lowly soldier and become someone else… Someone greater than yourself." He pulled his hands apart and dropped his arms to his sides. "That's what you want, isn't it? To be loved and appreciated. You're using me. Imagine what a hero you will become when we bring home some dragon blood and some scales. They'll be singing your praises for years to come," he concluded with a grin.

Falkner snorted, and approached the water. He bent over, removed his boots, and picked them up with his free hand holding them at his side. Morty watched from the edge. He couldn't tell how deep the water was. Falkner placed his right foot in the pool first. He grunted, but didn't withdraw, placing his other foot in the water. He took a few steps. The water only reached his knees. He ventured further towards the centre and the water came up to his waistline but didn't rise anymore. "This is as deep as it gets."

Morty drew in a deep breath and removed his boots, holding one in each hand. He didn't bother rolling up his pant sleeves – there was no point. He couldn't roll them up further than his knees. Stepping into the water, he tightened his jaw muscles, preventing himself from any sounds escaping from his mouth, feeling the cool water against his skin. Grateful there was no swimming involved, he walked through the water. There weren't many pools around Ecruteak to practice the skill. Eventually, he reached the other side and bent down to squeeze out the water in his pants as best as he could. Up ahead, he noticed a single narrow entrance into another chamber.

Falkner put his boots back on. "We must be getting closer."

"I would assume so." Morty held his arm forward. "You first since you are the torch bearer."

"Then let's hope for the best."

Without saying another word, Morty followed Falkner through the cavern entrance.

.

Naoko kneeled before the phoenix statue in prayer. Every morning she would pray to the god of the light asking for guidance in these troublesome times. Morty had yet to return with the three relics, and doubt had entered her mind. What if he had failed? It wouldn't be the first time she had sent her finest clerics to locate the relics. All had failed thus far. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps.

Climbing to her feet, she dusted her robes then turned around. Zuki, her youngest sister, entered the room. "Naoko."

"Zuki." Naoko straightened her posture, her shoulders pinned back, chin held high. "You are not supposed to be here."

"As welcoming as ever, sister," Zuki said.

"We have our orders from N. He is able to communicate with our leader and our god."

"And you believe he is the one?"

Naoko frowned. "You speak ill of N's intentions. Do you think he is unfit?"

The woman shook her head. "We should be working together as one. Having divided groups does more harm than good," Zuki reasoned. "The other sisters feel the same, but they can't be here today to share their concerns."

"Is that jealousy I detect in your own, sister? Do you still bear a grudge that I was chosen over you? My faith is strong, and I will be rewarded for it." She turned away back to the statue. She was the Chosen One. Not Morty. Not Fantina. No. She had only made them believe they were the chosen.

"You haven't told your people, have you?"

With a sigh, she turned back around again, annoyed by the interruption. "And tell them what? They're disposable in the eyes of our lord? I was chosen, Zuki. Because I'm not afraid to do whatever it takes to ensure we meet our goal. Obtain the three holy relics. Raise Ghetsis from the dead. And he will awaken our god as he did all those years ago, and we will be granted with power."

"You believe."

Naoko nodded. "I have faith. Is your faith weak?"

"My faith is strong," Zuki said, approaching the statue. She reached out to touch it. "But we live in uncertain times. The city will be on guard."

"No. The city is weak," Naoko said with a grin. "King Edward is a stubborn old blind fool. He thinks he defeated us all those years ago, but we survived. He had the opportunity to search the lands for us, but he didn't. We have achieved a great victory, he said," she said slowly, recalling an old memory. "I saw it with my own eyes."

"You were there."

Naoko placed her hands on her sister's shoulders, looking deep into her eyes. "You and our other sisters were still at home too young to venture far. I watched from the bushes as Edward Blackthorn killed our mother. He struck her down with his sword and left her body outside the walls to rot. From that day on I swore I would do whatever it took to bring that man to his knees at whatever the cost."

Zuki's expression softened. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I do not want to appear weak. I must keep a clear mind."

The war to end all wars. That's what the battle had been called. But they had been wrong. Many had died in a fight for freedom. Edward's own fear of magic started the war, and fear had succeeded that day. "Our mother founded the Order of Ash. She wanted to rebuild the order. To bring Ghetsis back to power using the lessons he taught us. We need to resurrect our Father."

"Do you trust in N?"

Naoko nodded. "I believe in him, yes. N studied Ghetsis's teachings. He learned about the power of the three relics and taught us about them." She narrowed her eyes. "You almost ruined our efforts with that assassination attempt."

"Without the king, the city is weak. We could strike them down."

"Not without the relics, and those relics are in Blackthorn. If the king had died, it would be a lot harder to find them. Morty might be my finest warrior, but he can't face an entire army on his own. No. The death of the king would only put them on high alert. King Henry's death had harmed us more than helped. I've learned from the past."

She walked past Zuki and towards a window, sticking her head outside. A gentle breeze brushed up against her skin providing brief relief from the heat. Thick clouds could be spotted in the distance. A sign of things to come. Judgement day. The city would fall.

"You have my support, Naoko. We may not agree on everything, but you are family." The woman kneeled before her as a gesture of submission.

Naoko cupped her chin and tilted it up. "We must stay strong. Morty will return with the relics, and then we will rise again from the ashes. He will save us and bring us closer to our lord. N has seen it, and he has not been wrong yet. Everything is going according to plan." She withdrew her arm then gestured to the door. "You must leave now. I must pray."

Zuki nodded. "What do you want me to do?"

"Bring your finest men here."

"Our numbers are small. We have ten trained monks ready to serve."

"That will do. They need to be part of history."

"Of course." Zuki turned to leave.

Once she was gone, Naoko turned back to the phoenix statue and kneeled again.

"By the grace of your light, may we emerge victorious."

.

As soon as they entered the cave, they were greeted to the sounds of heavy breathing and pained grunts. Another human clearly. Falkner walked towards the source of the voice, holding the torch out in front of him, lighting the path ahead. There. He spotted a young man on the ground resting against a rock, a hand resting on his bare stomach.

Before Morty could stop him, Falkner hurried over and dropped down besides the young man. Morty held back a sigh. Did Falkner think he could save the man? Better they use the dying fool as bait to lure out this dragon that supposedly lived down here.

"You're okay," Falkner started.

Morty looked at the wound. There was a deep red diagonal gash across his chest starting from his left bicep. "Well, that's a blatant lie," Morty murmured.

The man drew in a sharp breath. His face was ashen pale and there were beads of sweat clinging to his forehead. His wound was deep. The man would eventually bleed out on the floor. "Please… help…" he murmured.

Falkner looked at Morty. "Can you heal him?"

Morty shook his head. "Are you offering yourself to take his place? Then no, I can't heal this man. You have to take the life of another to save yourself from death." He looked down at the man. He was reasonably young still. He wasn't showing any signs of aging nor did he bare any scars from battles which suggested he wasn't an experienced fighter. His hair was jet black and his eyes just as dark. "Can you speak? What is your name?"

"…Brendan…" the man gasped, drawing in another ragged breath. His hand never left his stomach. "…Please… help me… It hurts so much…" he whimpered.

Falkner brought a hand to Brendan's arm and tried to pull it aside to examine the wound, but a loud yelp of pain from Ash caused him to withdraw. Blood was seeping through the gaps between his fingers.

Morty knelt beside him and placed a hand on Brendan's own, running a finger down through the blood. One his finger was coated in it he brought to his nose and sniffed. "Huh. Poison. That's odd. He must've gotten bitten by something."

"And the gash on his chest?"

"Attacked by something. A creature."

Morty moved Brendan's hand away. The boy cried out, but Morty ignored his whimpers. "Oh Arceus…" Falkner said, pulling his face back. Morty glanced down. The wound was deep. He could see the intestines pulsating as if there was something hiding inside them moving about. Green sacs appeared on the outside of the flesh. "What in the hells is that?"

"Poison. He was attacked by some creature. Now he's been infected by its toxin and it's spread throughout his body, seeming to manifest in his stomach area. Fascinating really." Morty lowered a hand to the side of his left thigh, his hand resting on the hilt of his dagger. He pulled out his blade and held it above the stomach.

"What are you doing?" Falkner said his eyes wide.

"He's going to die anyway might as well end his suffering."

"No," Falkner replied, shaking his head in disdain. "We're not killing him."

Morty frowned. "He's almost dead. What difference does it make?" He looked down at Brendan again. The boy groaned. "Did you come here alone? What were you doing here anyway?"

"…We were looking for treasure… We figured there'd be treasure down here… My friends… We walked into a trap…" He coughed several times then continued. "…It emerged from the ground, a great reptile. One by one I watched my friends die. I was the last one left…" Tears formed in his eyes. "…I got struck in the chest and I hit my head. I woke up sometime later with a pain in my stomach."

"You've been poisoned from the toxin in that creature's teeth. I'm afraid there's nothing that can be done for you and you're going to die." Morty held the blade before Brendan's face. "All I can do is grant you a swift death to free you from your suffering." He shifted eyes down to the boy's stomach once again. The intestines were splitting open as if something were trying to climb out.

Falkner brought a hand to his mouth and turned away. "By the gods…" he muttered.

"Arceus it hurts!" Brendan cried out, tears running down his cheeks. Small plump white maggots emerged from the openings in the intestines. He screamed again moving both hands to his stomach area as if that would somehow lessen his pain.

"You need to keep your voice down," Morty hissed, clamping a hand down over Brendan's mouth to muffle his screams. "Or I will fucking end your pathetic life now." His words were met with a whimper.

"Surely there's something you can do? He has information," Falkner said, his back still turned. "He saw something. Maybe it was the dragon. We need to know what we saw. It can help us survive this."

"That I can do, but it won't be pleasant. But you are right. We need answers. This better be worth it," he muttered. "Cover his mouth. I don't want him screaming."

Falkner obeyed covering his mouth with his left hand. "What are you doing?"

"Accessing his memories from his blood. Not as powerful as a relic, but it'll let me know what caused him this wound."

Morty held out his left arm and sliced into his right wrist, allowing the blood to seep out of the wound and into Brendan's stomach. Morty smeared his own blood over his opposite hand. Once covered in blood, he plunged his hand into Brendan's stomach. Brendan screamed but fortunately the sound was muffled. That creature would come back. They weren't prepared for that just yet.

He closed his eyes. His own blood would travel through Brendan's bloodstream and information would travel to his brain and back again. Blood magic was mostly used to inflict pain, but it could also be used to obtain recent information from the mind. Brendan's memories played out in his head. "He ran into this very cavern," Morty started. "He was alone. The ground shook. Brendan dropped his torch from shock. He fell over then climbed to his feet and was struck in the chest. The creature left him behind to die." He pulled out his hand.

"That's it?"

"It was dark. Brendan dropped his torch, and the flame went out. This thing emerged from the ground. It can probably sense vibrations. It'll come back to finish off its meal like some creatures do." He looked down at Brendan. "Channelling energy from myself is draining and I can't to be weakened. This is not the death you imagined yourself to have but know your death has helped someone." He placed the dagger against Brendan's vulnerable throat.

Falkner scowled. "If I was a stronger man, I'd cut you down."

Morty chuckled. "Well, at least you admit you are weak."

Brendan's lower lip trembled. He looked at Morty with pleading eyes. "Please…"

Morty slashed his throat open, blood spilling out onto his hand. The life in Brendan's eyes died as the boy took his final breath, his heartbeat taking its last beat. Glancing over his shoulder at Falkner, he said, "I need a drop of your blood."

Falkner lifted a brow. "What?"

"Using magic is draining. Weren't you listening? Stick out your arm."

Falkner looked hesitant. "You're not going to cast a spell on me, are you?"

"I need to recover, and we don't have time to wait. This is the fastest way. Blood, please."

"Fine." Falkner held out his arm. "But I'm cutting myself."

Morty handed over the knife. Falkner grabbed it and brought the blade to his arm, pressing the edge against his wrist. He made a slow incision and caught the blood on the knife. Once done, he returned the dagger. Morty brought the blade to his mouth and ran his tongue across it.

"…You people are weird," Falkner murmured.

"Blood is a life force," Morty replied, screwing up his face in disgust, lowering the blade. He had never grown accustomed to the taste of blood and tried to avoid it as much as possible. It tasted like metallic salt, as if he were running his tongue across iron. He swallowed the blood. Already, he felt refreshed. The cut on his arm had healed. He returned the dagger to its sheath.

Falkner drew an invisible cross over his chest. "Arceus forgive me for being weak."

Morty rolled his eyes. "I doubt Arceus will even care. I think-" His words were interrupted by a tremor beneath his feet. It was as if the earth beneath them was ready to open and swallow them whole. Once more the ground shook, more violently than the first tremor. It was enough to almost knock him off his feet.

"Is that the dragon?" Falkner murmured.

"We'll have to wait and see. Do not move."

"I hope you're right."

The ground shook a third time and this time cracks appeared before them. The crack widened until a large head with a blunt, ridged snout appeared. It opened its mouth revealing two rows of dagger-like teeth. The creature's forelimbs were tiny, but its legs were massive – the dragon could easily crush an adult horse under a single foot.

Falkner's face paled. "We're doomed."

The creature was covered in brownish red scales from head to tail. Plated, armour-like ridges covered its knees, back and the top of its tail. It had black around its eyes, and its light grey lower jaw was covered by a beard of white, primitive feathers. Above the eyes was a row of five spokes resembling a crown. Around its neck was a feathery white ruff that extended over its shoulders like cape.

"How are we supposed to fight that?" Falkner murmured.

It walked towards them, each step creating a small tremor. "Don't move," Morty warned.

"I wouldn't even consider it."

The tyrantrum trudged over in their direction stopping before Brendan's body then opened its mouth, its forked tongue running across Brendan's face. The dragon then lowered its head to the boy's stomach, clamping its jaws around his body and lifting him up. Bringing its head back, the dragon brought its jaws together, slicing off Brendan's legs and head. They fell to the ground as the dragon swallowed Brendan's torso whole. It sniffed the air.

"Oh shit!" Falkner exclaimed, his hand trembling.

"Shut up," Morty hissed. "Don't even think about dropping that torch."

Falkner turned his head. "What are we supposed to do? We can't that fight thing!"

All he had was a sword, a bow, and some arrows. Arrows would only bounce of its scales – they needed bolts, but there hadn't been any crossbows available. A sword would do nothing if they couldn't get close. His only option was to use magic, but a creature so large would take up a lot of energy. Even if he had a source to channel from, he didn't have the power to bring it down because of the creature's size. His only remaining option was to channel the life source of another to build the energy he needed. He glanced in Falkner's direction. The man had his hand clasped around his sword, but he was frozen in place, wide-eyed. Falkner would not be leaving the cave.

The tyrantrum looked in their direction once more then lumbered over its tail being dragged along the floor. It opened its mouth and unleashed a fearsome roar, the sound echoing throughout the caverns.

Morty grimaced, bringing both hands to his ears, trying to lessen the sound as much as possible. He winced, feeling a sharp implosion of pain in his left ear. When he pulled his hands away, he was surprised to see blood. "…Unpleasant," he murmured. The dragon's roars ceased. It lowered its head and scratched at the ground with its front right leg. "Now is a good time to start running," Morty added, turning his back to the dragon.

Falkner nodded, and headed towards the exit. They broke out into sprint. The dragon growled and charged, the ground quaking beneath their feet. Bits and pieces of rock fell from the ceiling.

Fortunately, they were able to make it through the narrow opening before the cave dragon caught up to them, but it didn't stop from the creature from trying. It stuck its head in the narrow opening, gnashing its jaws, trying to grab onto something, anything. Morty slashed at its snout with his sword eliciting a pained growl from the dragon.

"Do you think it can push through?" Falkner said, his sword drawn.

"I don't want to stay and find out… But yes, I think it will push through." Morty pulled back. The dragon flicked its tongue out flinging beads of saliva at their faces. Some it landed on Morty's arm. He winced then glanced down, surprised to find his skin turning a burning red. "Seems like its saliva creates a burn," he murmured, wiping his arm on clothing.

"And what do you propose we do now? There's no way we can fight that thing with the gear we have. You would need some magic to take the dragon down because swords and arrows won't do anything!" Falkner pressed his back against the wall, his sword pointed at the cavern exit, as if expecting the dragon head to poke through again.

The dragon pulled away and silence fell. An uncomfortable silence. The only sound he could hear was their breathing. "I can't use magic. It's too much. Magic has its limitations. That dragon is large. Most of my targets are human so you can already the problem we're facing. All I can do is stall for time until help arrives."

"And you think help will come?"

Morty nodded. "Eventually," he lied.

The ground shook again, causing cracks to appear in the side walls.

Falkner stumbled forward and spun around, moving the torch from side to side. "We have to do something!"

Morty tightened his grip on his blade, looking around the narrow cavern, trying to pinpoint where the dragon's next attack would come from. The attack came without warning. The wall behind him collapsed and the dragon barrelled through, its head used as a battering ram. Unable to move away in time, both Morty and Falkner were knocked to the ground with a single swipe of its front foot. Pain exploded in his back as his face contacted the cave floor. He heard Falkner cry out in pain beside him.

Grimacing, Morty clenched his jaw and forced himself to his feet, shockwaves of intense pain spreading throughout his body. He arched his back then grunted, feeling something snap inside. Blinding pain followed and he collapsed on the floor again, squeezing his eyes shut, as if it would somehow make the pain more tolerable. A broken bone in his spine. It left him paralysed from the waist down leaving him vulnerable to the dragon's bite.

For the first in his life, death was a high probability. He never had a reason to fear death before – nothing had ever come close to threatening him – in fact, there had been several times he had wanted a challenge so he could experience being on the brink of death. This wasn't what he had in mind. He didn't want to die here on the floor paralysed from the waist down, waiting to be devoured by a monstrous overgrown lizard. He had always envisioned his end to be more heroic – to die fighting. Not like this. Never like this.

Falkner's screams pulled him out of his thoughts. The man was lying down on his back, both hands clutching at his chest, his face scrunched up in pain. Blood seeped through the gaps between his fingers and trailed down his arms. He could heal. Falkner could not. The man would die here. "Give me your hand," Morty said through a strained tone.

"…Why?" Falkner wheezed.

"I can help you."

Falkner weakly moved his arm away from his chest and laid it out on the floor. The dragon was a few feet away, looking around itself, as if it had lost their scent. Morty grabbed Falkner's wrist coating his hand in blood. Excellent. Morty withdrew his arm and brought his hand to his mouth and licked his hand clean of the blood. It was like eating food again after being on the brink of starvation. Refreshing. He could feel his body start to repair itself, but he didn't dare move or risk catching the attention of the dragon again.

"…Can you stop the blood flow?" Falkner said weakly. "I promise I won't say a word when we return to Blackthorn about your true identity."

It was funny how people made their vows when they were close to death. Tyrantrum hadn't returned. Not yet. He had time. "It wasn't supposed to end like this. Not for you at least. But you'll die a hero. I'll be sure to let the others know about your sacrifice," Morty said, rolling over onto his back. He reached out to grab the torch.

Falkner tried to pick himself up from the ground, but it pained him too much to lift his upper torso off the ground. He clawed at the ground. "Your people can't be trusted!" he exclaimed his brows furrowed in anger. "You said it yourself… You don't have to follow them. Everyone has a choice! You don't have to do this!"

Morty kicked Falkner's arm away. "Don't talk to me about your choices! You're a soldier. You don't get a say. If you had a choice, would you have come here into this mountain?" Morty paused for dramatic effect then continued. "We're both just soldiers in this game of survival, trying to do what we can to live. I have my orders and I intend to fulfill them because I am loyal. You should've killed me when you had the chance, but you couldn't do it." He glanced down at Falkner. The poor man's face was scrunched up in pain. "This whole concept of redemption and salvation doesn't exist. It's a word given to those who show remorse for their actions and seek a lighter sentence in life after death. Arceus doesn't give a damn about you. Your faith will not be rewarded."

A thunderous roar filed the caverns. Tyrantrum had returned. It turned its attention to Falkner's weakened body and walked towards him.

Falkner threw a desperate plea in Morty's direction. "You can't leave me here. Please. You can't."

Morty slowly climbed to his feet, taking a few steps backwards. Once the dragon was done with Falkner, it would turn its attention on him as he still had a few traces of Falkner's blood on his hand and clothing. "You wanted to die a hero… Your wish has been granted. You saved me. A noble sacrifice."

Falkner reached a hand towards him, clawing at the air. "Don't leave me here!" he cried out.

"Goodbye, Falkner, you've served your purpose."

"No!"

The dragon opened its mouth and clamped its jaws around his body. Screaming at the top of his lungs, Falkner tried to free himself, but his attempts were in vain. Half his body couldn't move. All he could do was helplessly flail his arms around in the air. The tyrantrum closed its jaws, its sharp teeth penetrating both flesh and bone with little effort. Falkner threw his head back, a bloodcurdling scream tearing through his throat. His head, arms and legs became separated from the body and fell to the ground. Falkner was still screaming. How odd. A severed head and still it lived as it was still connected.

He looked on in fascination. The dragon swallowed the torso whole ignoring the other parts. A part of the intestines fell out from its mouth. Falkner's eyes were wide open frozen in fear, but his screams had finally ceased. A cruel death, but necessary. The boy had to die to bring down the dragon. The tryrantrum sensed his presence, drawn by the blood on his clothing. It lowered its head like a ram preparing to charge.

Morty raised his hands and held them out before him, his palms exposed towards the tyrantrum. Keeping his gaze locked on the dragon's stomach, he focused his magic on causing internal bleeding. The dragon charged. Morty held his ground, keeping his arms raised, focusing on his magic. Tyrantrum's movements slowed. Its knees wobbled.

A wave of nausea overcame him, the effects of casting the spell already beginning to take effect. Tyrantrum too weakened fast. It clumsily stumbled forwards and fell over, its jaw smashing into the ground. The dragon slid across the cave floor stopping a few inches short of Morty. Blood seeped out of its nostrils, eyes, and mouth. Morty leaned against the wall drawing in a deep sigh of relief.

"You'll be a hero, Falkner," he said softly, gazing down at the dragon's head. Its head was almost as large as his bed. "I'll say you willingly gave your life for the greater good. The ultimate sacrifice. I suppose they left the bloody endings out in the tales." The stench of blood filled the cavern. His own clothes were covered in it. He picked up the torch and moved it around from side to side, hoping to catch a glimpse of where the ring could be hiding.

The dragon had come from underground. That made the task harder. The ring could be anywhere. Bards often sang about dragons' hording treasure amongst piles of gold, but Morty didn't see any gold anywhere. Perhaps he should've kept Brendan alive after all. He walked around the cavern stepping around the fallen tyrantrum. He only covered a few feet when heavy breathing caught his attention.

"…You brought down the dragon," a female voice said.

Morty turned his head. There hiding in a small opening was a young girl with shoulder-length brown hair and rosy cheeks. "Show yourself," he said, holding out the torch before him. He couldn't tell how old she was – not a mature adult – but not a child either. Somewhere in between.

The girl crawled out of her hiding spot and climbed to her feet. Her clothes were tattered and torn, and there was a vertical scar on her right cheek. "I'm Mary. Brendan's sister." She walked towards him but maintained an arm's length distance. The girl was thin and frail. Clearly, she had been hiding down here for quite a few days. "We risked everything for a ring."

He noticed a golden ring on her left hand. It was glowing red. One of the holy relics. "I don't think you'll be needing that ring," Morty said gently. "Those items are dangerous. Magical. Could be fatal in the wrong hands."

The girl shifted her gaze from Morty then to the dragon and back again. "I found it. It's mine. It's kept me safe."

"Your brother is dead," Morty said, holding back his frustration. Why would she want to give him, a total stranger, the ring? What adventurer would willingly part with their treasure they had found? "The search for the ring got him killed. This creature was drawn to him."

Her eyes widened. "Brendan?"

"Yes. Dead."

She shook her head. "No! It can't be!"

"You shouldn't play with cursed objects," he said, gesturing to the ring, hoping he could convince her to part with it. "If you hadn't gone searching for it, your brother would still be alive."

She looked down at the ring then lifted her gaze once more. "Will you keep it safe?"

He nodded. "Of course."

"My brother only wanted to make life better for us," she murmured. "Find the rare ring. Sell it for a good price. Maybe then we would finally have a roof over our heads at night," she said, slipping the ring off her finger.

"You're making the right choice."

"Take it. Better you than me." She glanced at the dragon. "It should go to someone who slayed a mighty beast. Not someone like me who did nothing but hide like a coward." She held the ring out.

He accepted it and placed it on a finger. The ring glowed red. One more relic to find. "We need to leave. It's not safe here." His fingers tightened around the hilt of his blade debating his next move. The girl should die. Was supposed to die. Her life was insignificant. But he couldn't raise the blade to end her life. "Best to conserve energy," he muttered.

"What?" Mary said.

"Nothing. Let's just… leave this place." He needed to find that final relic fast. The city was making him weak. Naoko would never hesitate to take the life of another. Not even Eusine would. What was wrong with him? "I've been here too long," he murmured, retracing his footsteps towards the cavern's exit.

Too long indeed.