WARNING DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED/UNCOMFORTABLE READING BLOOD, SUICIDE, DEATH, OR BAD LANGUAGE!

A/N: Brace yourselves for a long-ass, word vomit, angst-ridden piece of work. X^X Long enough to be a novel, and not complete by a long shot. Figured I might as well put it up now as a promise that I'm still writing, just in other places. If this ever gets completed someday, I'll take it down with just a section left as a preview and and author's note to say where it's gone. Take your time, take breaks, leave a review and enjoy!

Working Title: Guardians

Genre: Romance/Angst/Hurt-Comfort/Adventure

Pairings: Lance x Anna & Matt x Natalie

Rating: M

Warnings: Language, blood, suicide, sexual themes, sex, death, (little OOC)

"I thought I told you three not to come here."

The three in question jerked up in surprise, dripping and breathless from the rainstorm they'd sprinted through. They hadn't expected anyone to be inside the ominous cave, and they certainly hadn't expected Matt to be there. Each of them had been sure they'd given him the slip. Yet there the swordsman was, sitting on the steps before the worn altar with Heaven's Gate resting against one leg. His eyes were cold in a way they'd never seen before.

"And yet, somehow, I'm not surprised you tried to break in here after all," the swordsman went on in that same level, detached voice, not waiting for their replies. "You've never listened to me when it really mattered. You didn't the last dozen times, either."

Lance cautiously straightened up with his eyes warily fixed on Matt's face. He was sensing something from swordsman he'd never really felt before: a killing intent.

"You're here to stop us—kill us, if necessary," the gunner stated in a low voice.

Natalie and Anna each jerked, their eyes widening in incredulous disbelief at his words.

"Matt would never-!"

Natalie's protest was cut off by Matt.

"I am," Matt agreed in that same unnaturally flat voice. "Unless you turn around right now and never come back."

He hadn't stood up, or even moved in any threatening way, yet each of his friends tensed. The very idea of Matt attacking them seemed impossible. Even back when Lance had first faced them down, the swordsman had focused on the Valkyrie rather than the pilot. Spars between him and the others could be heated and wild, but never overly serious. And even back then, he had never looked so coldly determined to fight them. There was a glint in his eyes now that was almost cruel.

"What's so important about this altar?" Anna finally asked, if only to shed some light on the matter. And to stall for time.

Flames suddenly burst to life in the sconces on either side of Matt and he stood up, unsheathing his sword. His face was thrown into shadow, while the silvery blade glinted red from reflected flames. The blade spun in a circle once, forming a flickering wheel of fire as he firmed his grip.

"Last chance."

Natalie took an uneasy step back with utter betrayal playing across her features. A part of her mind was protesting this entire situation, insisting that she must be trapped in a dream—or a nightmare. There was no other explanation for their trusted friend to be so set on attacking them. And he would, she was certain. She'd known him for years, and every minute detail and signal she'd ever learned from him told her he was dead serious about this. Some tiny corner of her whimpered in terror, certain without knowing why, that they would lose a fight with him.

It didn't matter anymore: glowing swords suddenly dropped across their exit, trapping them in the altar room with Matt. Perhaps fittingly, lightning flashed and thunder boomed at the same moment.

Lance didn't seem to have any reservations as he readied his gunblade. Anna dropped back some for range as she shouldered her bow around and nocked three arrows on the string, imbuing them with mana. Natalie doubted she looked as ready as them as she took a shaky grip on her staff and cast a powerful barrier spell on her allies, for all the good it would do.

Matt leapt forwards in a blindingly fast, zigzagging pattern paired with a bewildering flash of light. The unusual assault coupled with the ruining of their vision caused Anna's arrows to miss and Lance's bullets to whiz harmlessly past him. The thorns that were summoned next to slow him instantly incinerated in a pulse of mana far stronger than any they'd ever felt from him.

Lance barely brought his weapon up in time to parry the killing stroke that came at his neck. Even then, he was flung clear off his feet and into a wall, dazed, but alive. A lightning bolt hit him a second later, and he shrieked in surprise. Though he hadn't seen it, Matt had caught the bolt Natalie had sent at him on his blade and redirected it to the gunner. He shook his head to clear the stars and twitching as he staggered to his feet, only to choke on a mouthful of blood as a multitude of ethereal swords showered down into his torso. He barely heard Anna's scream of his name over the over-loud thumping of his heart in his ears. Everything seemed to grow dark alarmingly quickly, and he slumped limp.

Matt hadn't even looked as he moved on in his assault to Anna, who looked honestly terrified of him. Natalie seemed wary of launching spells at him, having seen what he'd done with her lightning. Still, he could sense her mana swelling to heal—or possibly revive—Lance, and he cut that off, too. A barrier formed around the dying gunner, cutting him off from any outside sources of mana, even as Heaven's Gate shore through Skyfeather, leaving Anna with two useless pieces of bone and wood attached by a string. A stab through her chest took her down before she could cry out, and he shouldered her off his blade to topple to the floor.

Natalie backed against the cold stone of the wall by the entrance, shaking as Matt's unnaturally cold eyes turned on her. There was nothing there that even remotely resembled her gentle, funny, and caring friend. None of them had ever known exactly how deadly their friend really was—and perhaps he'd misled them on purpose, just in case this very scenario came to pass. Blood was splattered across his face and stained his sword and hands—her friends' blood, her family's blood.

And soon her blood, too, she knew.

Yet something in her snapped, breaking her past the terror that had frozen her limbs, and she let out an unearthly shriek along with a pulse of mana so strong it blasted Matt back. Tears poured down her cheeks as she wildly lashed out with her magic, slashing and flaring in terror and rage. One or two hit Matt, splashing his blood onto the ground to join his former teams', but it didn't stop him from raising a hand that trembled ever so faintly. A summoned sword flashed through the air, between the tendrils of magic, and sank into Natalie chest, killing her just as effectively as he had Anna.

The entire battle had lasted less than five minutes. Matt's knees met the ground at the same time Natalie's body did. He retched, even though there was nothing in his stomach, and let out a piercing wail. It had been his blood duty, unwilling though it was, to defend this site. The thought that he'd spared his friends the terrors that would have enjoyed feasting on their bodies and minds wasn't even a cold comfort. He cursed the rumor that had planted the idea to come here in his friends minds, he cursed his friends for refusing to listen to him, and he cursed himself for making the choice to kill them. Even the next crackle of thunder couldn't drown out his cries.

"You aren't strong enough for revival magic, little one."

Matt stiffened and unconsciously raised his head to see an echo of a long dead woman holding a younger version of him in her lap. This was why he hated this place—it always taunted him with happier days in a way that reminded him just how useless he was. Not that his despair ever stopped the visions; not even after lifetimes of enslavement to this place.

"But what if something happens to you? Or to dad? I'll be the only one who even knows what you need!"

The echo of his own childish voice sounded, and he let out another broken sob, even as he listened to the next words of the echo of his mother.

"Nothing will happen. You'll be strong enough to stop everything bad. That's why you're learning to use a sword, remember?"

"Not that having a sword was ever enough," Matt whimpered as his eyes moved past to where Natalie's corpse bled onto the stone. "I was never enough, so why did the gods choose me to guard this place?"

He'd asked himself that thousands of times since his parents had been slaughtered defending the thrice-damned altar behind him. He'd been enough to stop the marauders then, but not enough to save his family. And he hadn't been enough to stop his friends—not in the way he had so desperately wanted. And he wasn't enough to bring them back now.

Then a memory drifted through his mind of when Natalie had been helping Lance and Anna hone their magical abilities. He'd bowed out of the lesson, not wanting to reveal just how skilled he already was in the artes. So much of it had been more technical than he'd cared to hear about, too, but still a lecture stuck out in his mind.

Lance had been asking why he couldn't just use a mana crystal to give his spells a boost rather than waste hours every day building his focus, reserves, and control.

"Conduits and mana crystals can be used to enhance or focus your magic, yes, but it comes at a cost," Natalie had scolded. "I've met people who've wiped their own minds, burned out their mana, and worse. There are even stories of people erasing themselves from existence. No, you're better off doing it the hard way. Besides, such crystals are impossibly rare to begin with, anyway."

Matt's eyes unwittingly drifted to one of many such crystal littering the altar from past offerings. Could he use one to revive his friends? They would hate him regardless, of course, but he couldn't stand to leave them dead. Besides, potentially erasing himself didn't sound like such a bad punishment for so utterly betraying them.

In less than two minutes, he'd moved their cold and stiffening bodies to the center of the room. He'd given a snarky apology to whatever misguided fool had placed the crystal he'd swiped from the altar, uncaring of the blaspheme of a theft from the divine. He'd never much cared for when and what he stole. Prayers at the altar behind him had never ended well, anyway. Besides, the gods owed him for his centuries of service.

His own blood made the trail to his friends to connect each of them to the crystal. He didn't bother healing the gash on his arm. It would close off on it's own before too long, anyway.

"Please work," he murmured as he began pushing all of his healing magic into the conduit.

At first, nothing seemed to happen, and his breathing hitched. Then a painful tug on something intangible inside his core exploded in a brilliant display of white light. He recognized the familiar cross of Gensis forming over his friends, and held his breath even though the world was already spinning. Without even thinking, he sent a prayer to Godcat to bring them back—she was the only goddess who'd ever seemed reasonable that he'd spoken to.

And for the first time, his prayers were answered. Each of their bodies gave sharp jerks and jolted upright, gasping wildly as they gaped about them. Matt's eyes filled with tears once more as the glow faded from around him. Even the burning of his mana trails wasn't enough to drop the smile of relief from his face.

The mad scramble of terror away from him did, however. He winced at the understandable reaction and turned his face away. They were alive. It was enough for him.

Lance, Natalie, and Anna huddled together on the far side of the cave, trembling as they watched Matt stand. He swayed on his feet, and had to use Heaven's Gate as a crutch to get fully upright. Then, very abruptly, he hurled his sword behind him, sinking it all the way to the hilt in the front of the altar. A sickly green shimmer spread over the stone before it somehow faded in color from bone white to a dust gray as whatever magic had been in it was dispelled. The stone cracked in half before crumbling to dust, along with the elegant weapon, leaving behind a pile of grit and a few odd objects that had been contained within.

Matt gave a stiff bow to the dust and then strode for the exit to the cave. The god of the altar would strike him down soon, he was sure, and that was fine with him. That altar had been a product of a bygone age, and he wished he'd had the courage to destroy it before he'd destroyed the team. A small part of him bitterly recognized that he'd needed the deadening of his assault to grant him the ability and gall to do such a thing.

"Not even an apology?" Lance suddenly demanded in a pale shadow of his former snipping.

Matt paused at the entrance to the cave, but kept his eyes fixed on the sheets of water still falling from the sky. "The words for an apology capable of making up for what I've done don't exist."

"You murdered us!" Anna spat. "You could at least explain why!"

Natalie said nothing, too afraid that Matt would lash out at them again.

But all that happened was that the swordsman resumed walking. His posture didn't shift, and he vanished into the storm. Each of his friends figured they likely wouldn't be seeing him again anytime soon, if ever.

"Is everyone okay?" Lance finally asked in a low voice.

"Other than more than a little freaked?" Anna muttered. Her hand crept up to where she could feel a phantom blade sinking into her heart. The shirt was still torn under her fingers.

Natalie shook her head even as she brought her knees to her chest and buried her face in them. "I- I n-never thought... H- How could he?"

There was nothing any of them could say to that.

Years passed before they saw Matt again—years filled with regret and nightmares. They'd each wondered what they would say or do if they ever saw the swordsman. They imagined attacking him, breaking down and running from him, demanding answers, crying, apologizing... Hundreds of scenarios had been imagined, but what did occur was the least imagined.

They found Matt at a bar, nursing a drink by himself. They hadn't sensed his mana before entering—in fact, it had been his voice calling for another that had alerted them that he was there. He looked terrible. A bloody bandage was wound around his neck and ran under his clothes, his hair was limp, though not dirty, and his eyes were shadowed with exhaustion with deep lines under them. Swiftbrand leaned against his chair within easy reach, telling them that he was still fighting.

He actually jumped when they forcefully sat down at his table, and blinked in confusion at them before his eyes widened.

"Wh-What are you guys doing here?" he stuttered with a nervous squeak to his voice.

"Drinking, eating, resting up," Lance airily replied before his voice fell into bitter coldness. "Demanding answers you never gave us."

Matt risked taking his eyes off of the piercing glare on him to nod a thanks to the waitress who brought his drink. Once the woman was gone, he let his gaze drop to his beer and shrugged stiffly.

"What does it matter?" he muttered after he'd downed the drink in one go. "I stabbed you in the back. Quite literally. Frankly, I'm surprised you're bothering to talk to me."

"So you think we don't deserve answers?" Anna demanded heatedly.

"What do you want to hear?" Matt tiredly asked as he leaned his cheek on one hand while swirling the bits of ice in his glass, and looking like he'd aged a hundred years in just a few seconds. "Do you want to hear why it was so easy to kill you? Maybe you want to know that I'm bound to obey certain orders? Perhaps you want to be sure I'm being punished?"

"Those would be good starts, yes," Natalie sarcastically agreed.

Inside, Matt was breaking apart again. He'd always known he was a hated figure to them now, but to be given irrefutable evidence to his face was still painful. And he was so tired...

"Fine. You probably won't believe half of what I say, anyway," he murmured. His eyes drifted back up to meet each of theirs' before trailing to the dark window. "I'm thousands of years old. I've killed hundreds of people who called me a friend over the same damn thing I killed you over. It wasn't very different to do it again. Death never had the same meaning to dragons as it does to humans, anyway."

The three sat back slightly in shock, both at the preposterous information and the dead voice Matt relayed it in. But he wasn't done talking.

"My entire lineage is bound to those altars. We guard them with our lives, no matter who we have to fight. Usually, we win. Sometimes we die. You can contact and, to an extent, control a god through those stones, but it comes at a heavy price. I've seen people summon a god only to have their skin flayed off. I've seen demons burst forth to drain a life slowly enough that it takes years to die. I've seen good people go mad with powerlust and slaughter entire nations, rape children, and other atrocities before they're put down. I couldn't let you suffer like that, and I don't have a lot of leeway once a person is that close to an altar."

He didn't look around as they shifted slightly in their seats. He wasn't sure he even cared if it was in understanding, shock, or disgust.

"I destroyed that altar, which means I severed a major conduit for a god. Understandably, they're not happy with me about that. I can't sleep; I haven't slept since that last night we all spent together. Furthermore, the mana crystal I used to revive you burned away my mana, and I still ache from it. But if you've got some other punishment you want to bestow, then feel free. I'll be in the forest to the east for the rest of the week."

With that, he stood up, picked up his sword, and left the building—his left leg was suffering a slight limp. The three people he'd left behind merely watched him go in silence.

"Do we believe him?"

Anna finally asked the question they were all thinking. It was an outlandish tale, after all, and it did little to assuage their fears of him. There had been many nights where one or more of them had woken in a sweat, and had to be reassured that they weren't dead.

OOOOOO

The bloody trail led them straight to Matt. He was kneeling beside a stream, washing out some deep gashes on his legs and torso. He didn't look up at their approach, but his shoulders did tense slightly, so they knew that he knew they were there.

"You don't look like much of a dragon," Lance finally noted as he watched Matt wind a roll of bandage around a leg.

"Of course not. Can you imagine getting anywhere without attracting a mob of hunters if you're a giant, winged lizard covered in gleaming scales, with a reputation of having a giant store of gold and valuables?" Matt grunted as he bit through the bandage to tear it and tied it tight.

He let the tattered pant leg drop down before moving to where he had a metal rod resting in the coals of a small fire. All three watching blanched as Matt pressed the metal to one of the deep gashes on his torso, cauterizing them shut. His teeth gritted and his face went white at the agonizing pain, but he didn't make a sound as the stench of burning flesh filled the air.

"Gods," Natalie breathed too quietly to be heard. She knew Matt knew field medicine, but she would never have thought he would burn his own wounds shut. The healer part of her urged her to offer her magic to help—at least, that's what she told herself as she stepped forwards.

"Let me," she murmured as Matt moved the metal brand to another wound.

He watched her with wary confusion, but lowered the bar back to the flames. A few seconds later, and his injuries were gone.

"Why?" he mumbled as Natalie stepped back quickly, her steps stiff and nervous. "I don't deserve it."

"Habit," Natalie replied equally quietly. "As a healer, I don't like to see people in pain."

"Those wounds were way past your guard," Lance noted cooly. "You slipping up, or is there something dangerous out here?"

Matt shrugged stiffly as he pulled his jacket back on, forgoing a shirt. "No. Just... Just looking for something to put me down. I've been letting injuries accumulate." He looked up with a totally fake smile, his eyes shut as his teeth flashed. "I'll sleep when I'm dead is how the saying goes, right? Besides... It'll probably be a load off you guys' backs to have me gone."

They gaped at him, at his broken smile and dark words. He seemed so close to snapping, and was already well along the path to self destruction. Whether that was because of sleep deprivation or something else... Each of them couldn't help the flash of pity they felt, regardless of what he'd done to them.

"I don't think you dying is going to fix anything," Anna said bluntly. "We'll still have memories, after all."

Matt flinched and his shoulders slumped slightly as his smile flickered before reaffirming itself. He carefully stood up and spread his arms. "Then maybe you should do it? I won't move. Promise."

There was a sort of pleading desperation to his voice now, and when they remained silent, he let his arms and smile fall.

"Th-that's okay," he murmured as he turned away to kick sand over his fire. "Something will get lucky eventually. I- I don't need rest, yet..."

He didn't say anything as they followed him through the trees. They were silent as they shadowed him for the entire day, watching him fight, but never helping. And when night came, they were silent as he built a fire and sat down against a tree with a heavy sigh. The other three sat down across from the fire, still silently watching him.

The atmosphere was tense, filled with unease and the crackles from the fire. Neither side wanted to break the unspoken truce, but Matt finally moved. He dug out a number of sacks and wrapped goods and set about kneading some flat breads and rolling strips of meat in spices. It didn't go unnoticed that he was preparing way more than one person needed.

Soon the smell of cooking meat and baking bread filled the air. Anna quietly stood and vanished into the trees, coming back twenty minutes later with a sack full of ripe berries and some greens to wilt in the fire. Natalie set about seasoning the greens and melting some butter to drizzle over them. Lance readied four plates and dug out three drinks—though, after a moment, he pulled out one more. Soon all of them were eating a delicious meal, but it didn't do anything to make the tension vanish.

"What do you want from me?" Matt asked in a low voice at long last. His eyes were stubbornly fixed on the last bits of meat on his plate. "I'm not your friend, so why follow me around?"

"Maybe... Maybe you can be our friend again," Natalie quietly replied. Her voice fell even further as she added, "I- I think I'd like that."

Despite the hopeful offer, Matt shook his head, seeming to shrink in on himself. "I... I can't. Nothing is the same anymore, and I can't risk having to..."

His words went unspoken, but they all understood. None of them wanted to risk the chance that he'd fight them for keeps, again. There would be no revival this time—they could hardly believe they'd been revived the last time.

"We can at least give it a chance," Lance finally said. His eyes were mistrustful as he watched Matt. "If nothing else, keep your friends close, and your enemies closer."

OOOOOO

Matt was gone by the time they woke up in the morning. He'd left some food for them, but that was all to show he'd ever been there last night. Anna attempted to track him, but he'd clearly anticipated that because his trail led straight to a swift river, and a brief scout up and down stream showed no signs of where he'd come out. Natalie's shoulders slumped as the realization that he was gone again sank in.

"I just... I thought we could try again," she mumbled. "He's clearly suffered enough."

Lance shrugged bitterly. "He did kill us, remember."

"But he brought us back, and at the cost of his mana," Anna pointed out. "He killed us, but he saved us, too."

OOOOOO

Anna nervously placed the three stolen Jewels onto the pedestals before kneeling to begin praying. Behind her, Natalie and Lance silently watched with their weapons gripped in hand. They'd run out of ideas and ways to find Matt, except this last one, which they only hoped would work.

A brilliant flash illuminated the dark plateau of Godcat's Temple, and Anna tensed even further as she raised her bowed head. A gleaming cat stood there, fixing brilliantly glowing eyes on her.

"Breaking your own people's code, Anna? Far more brash than I'd ever expected from you," Godcat rumbled before her eyes flicked to the other two. "It seems you're missing one. Please don't tell me you summoned me to resurrect that miserable guardian."

Natalie started. "You know what he is?"

"Of course. I may not have recognized him in our latest battle, but being a divine has its perks. I had thought all the guardians were slain," Godcat mewed dismissively before yawning. "And since you three now know what he is, I imagine you must have crossed him. But that cannot be true if you are standing here, alive and well. Unless you killed him?"

"He killed us," Lance corrected coldly. He gestured at the two women with barely concealed disgust. "These two want to find him, despite that. Unfortunately, he's good at avoiding us, and he has no mana, so we can't track him. We were hoping that you, as a god, could find him for us, or at least point us in the right direction."

Godcat sat down and began shaking with her head lowered. It took a long time for the three humans to realize she was laughing at them. Their expressions cooled as her head flung back to let out great yowling cries of utter mirth. Just as abruptly as she'd started, she stopped and her eyes narrowed in a glare.

"If you cannot lie to yourself, human, then do not insult by attempting to lie to me," Godcat hissed. She refused to explain that as she stood up, her tail flicking. "Matt's fate is still beyond my grasp. He is not bound to me, but to the war god. I can find him, perhaps, but to trifle with an ancient wyrm bound to a god of bloody battle and spoils... It is little wonder you four put up such a phenomenal struggled against me, and it is not an experience I wish to repeat."

"I don't understand," Anna mumbled. "How can he be so... old... and a dragon, and none of us knew? He never acted like he was anything but a carefree, battle loving human."

"I imagine he is somewhat insane. Isolation from being cursed to repeatedly kill those close to you can do that to a mind. Perhaps he had fooled himself into believing he was a mere mortal, rather than a sub-divine. Or perhaps he simply has lived among mortals for so long, he can easily impersonate them, or prefers to impersonate them." Her gaze returned from considering the twilight sky to study the three humans watching her. "...But he has erred in more ways than one. You are each... changed. You look not a day older than when we last spoke five years ago. When did he kill you?"

"Just over four years ago," Natalie replied stiffly. "What do you mean he's cursed to kill those close to him? He said something similar, though he didn't call it a curse."

"War is not something that can be won. There is no victor, no happiness, only corpses and loss. His master embodies that truth, and if there can be only loss, then of course Matt would be forced to eventually kill the ones he calls friends. It would be just like the war god to impose that belief on the one sworn to guard him. But for a creature whose greatest held values are loyalty, courage, and strength, then it would be painful, even scarring, to be forced to violate those values," Godcat murmured in a sober voice. Her ears flicked once before she shook herself to dismiss her thoughts. "But we dally on pointless philosophy. If you have not aged in four years, then Matt must have altered something about your bodies that is fundamental to being human. I do not imagine you will ever age again. Unnatural, but it will work in your favors. And regardless of my distaste for him and you, I owe each of you a debt. I will send you to Matt. Once there, inform him that he has been summoned to me. He will be bound to obey. Then... Well, I imagine that will be up to your team. Good luck."

Without giving them a chance to question further, or to protest, Godcat lifted them in the air and with a twitch of her whiskers, teleported them. And though they couldn't see her, her brows furrowed some in concern before she vanished once more.

Godcat had found Matt for them, alright. In fact, they landed on top of him. The swordsman yelped in surprise before squirming out from under them and launching into an attack. His sword stopped half an inch away from a dazed Natalie's neck. Quickly, he pulled the blade away, and took several steps back with wide eyes.

"Owowow," Anna groaned into the ground, held there by Lance's weight on top of her. "Get off me, you lump."

"Sorry," the gunner grunted as he carefully rolled off the stunned ranger.

Natalie sat up not far from him, rubbing the back of her head with one hand and a grimace on her face. It didn't take long for her to notice Matt standing against a tree gaping at them. Instantly her expression brightened with relief, and she scrambled to her feet.

"Matt! It worked!"

"It better have, for this headache to be worth it."

Matt looked torn between laughing at Lance's remark, and hyperventilating as he couldn't tell if they were real of another hallucination. His body picked the second for him, and the next thing he knew he was lying on his back, staring up at a ring of worried faces. The sky was brightening from the approaching dawn, and he realized he must've fallen unconscious. That was a first, though he still didn't feel rested. Did he even know what rested felt like, anymore?

Natalie was talking at him, he sluggishly realized, and staring at him with a baffled expression.

"Where'd the fangs come from?" Natalie repeated for the seventh time when Matt's eyes flitted to hers with confusion.

Instantly, Matt's tongue ran across his teeth, felt his elongated canines, and he shut his eyes with groan.

"Too tired to maintain the disguise," he explained. His eyes opened again and he pushed himself to sit up. A hand appeared in his vision, and he stared at it before looking up at Lance. "Thanks..."

"You look like shit," Lance said by way of reply. There was a noticeable undercurrent of concern in his voice.

"You'd look like shit, too, if you hadn't slept in almost five years," Matt retorted sourly. His temper had worsened since they'd last seen him. "What the hell do you three want this time?"

Natalie opened her mouth to say they'd been worried about him, but changed her mind at the last second. Instead, she bluntly stated, "Godcat told us to tell you you're summoned to her temple."

Matt's eyes widened in surprise. "Godcat? What does she want?"

"No clue. We summoned her to find you, not to make you talk to her," Anna replied, shifting from foot to foot anxiously. "Can we go now? I need to get the jewels back to where they belong. Preferably before I get banished from Greenwood."

Matt looked even more stunned. "You stole the Greenwood jewel? Wow, I never knew you had it in you..."

"Yeah, you're a terrible influence. Can we go now, please?"

Lance pulled Matt to his feet where the blond staggered slightly before standing straight. At first, it looked like he might run, but then he seemed to sag in place and gestured the others to follow. Birds were just beginning to chirp in the trees, and there was a heavy scent of rain in the air.

"Where are we? I don't recognize this forest," Natalie asked as she looked around at the various kinds of fronds she was certain she'd never seen before.

"A continent north and west of Goldenbrick," Matt replied quietly. He was silent for a few paces before adding even more softly, "It's near my den."

"We're on another continent?" Lance repeated in a faint voice. He shook his head and muttered, "No wonder we couldn't find you. Sheesh. So how do we get back? Sailing?"

"Sailing would take weeks, maybe longer, with the current wind directions," Matt refuted as he led them out of the trees to a cliff face. "No, I'll fly us back."

"Fly? How are-" Anna started to say before Matt took a running leap off the cliff.

The other three froze in shock before dashing forwards with dismayed cries. A split second later and an enormous golden shape soared past, buffeting them with wind. Gold scales and silver claws and horns glinted in the watery morning light and massive wings beat in the air as Matt carefully lowered himself to the edge of the cliff face. His hind claws settled against the stone below with an earth-shuddering thud while his front claws dug into the stone to hold him in place. Enormous sapphire eyes blinked slowly at the stunned three before the dragon's head jerked.

"Come on, this is an uncomfortable way to hang," Matt said in their minds. "Just clamber up my leg to my back and grab on to a spike. You should be warm enough from my body heat while we're flying."

Anna took the first stiff step forwards, still gaping at Matt, but nimbly stepped up onto his leg—wider than her three times over—and clambered up his side using his scales as hand and footholds. At first, she worried her weight would be uncomfortable to have pulling on his scales, but he didn't even twitch, and she soon put it out of her mind. She marveled at the immense warmth coming from his body, as though there was a great fire burning just under his skin, though the scales and hide were only pleasantly warm to the touch.

Lance clambered up next, just as easily as Anna, wondering all the while how something so large could get airborne—and never mind staying that way. He took a seat behind Anna, and hesitantly curled his fingers around a silver, oblong spire. The edges of the spike were defined, but blunt enough to not cut his fingers, and his feet fit comfortably into chinks in Matt's scales to provide extra support. He wondered if Matt had flown people before.

Natalie didn't have nearly as much luck climbing on. She got onto the golden leg, then made the mistake of looking down. Instantly, vertigo swept over her from how far away the ground was, and she swayed before toppling off. Terror froze her lungs and caused her heart and stomach to rise to her throat where they tied themselves in a knot. But she fell for less than two seconds before jolting to a stop. Heated breaths washed over her, and she looked up to see the tips of Matt's fangs holding her by the back of her dress. Cautiously, he lifted her up and craned his neck around to deposit her in front of Anna, who helped her get settled.

"Thanks," Natalie squeaked breathlessly.

"You're welcome. Now hold on."

With just that warning, Matt's legs bunched before he lunged up into the air, spreading his wings again and beating them rapidly until he was safely aloft. His wingbeats steadied to a smooth rhythm, alternating between flapping and gliding. His breathless passengers watched astounded as the ground tilted miles below as the dragon banked a turn before surging forwards. Chilly wind whipped past their faces, tugging at their hair and clothes, but the heat rising from Matt's back more than kept them warm. Soon they were lazily soaring above the sparkling ocean with no land in sight, skimming the swells and waves.

"This is amazing," Anna called over the wind. "I've never gone so fast before!"

An amused thrum rumbled through Matt's body before they felt him tense and launch forwards at an incredibly high speed. All of them fell back against the spikes behind them and were forced to squint their eyes as reflexive tears streamed out from the wind. Still, they could feel the immense speed at which they were traveling.

Matt held that pace for ten minutes before slowing again, riding up and down updrafts off the ocean like a sea bird. His passengers wiped their faces with wide, beaming smiles, unable to remember when they had last felt such exhilaration. Then Matt took a sudden dip for the water, settling into it with an immense splash.

"Sorry," Matt mumbled aloud. "Just... kind of tired... I'll start flying again in a little bit."

Still, he began smoothly swimming forwards using a mixture of an eel-like squirm, and paddling with his legs. It was still faster than any sailing ship, but significantly slower than flying had been. His golden scales glittered under the surface of the water as he powered forwards.

"Rest for a bit," Natalie urged. "You don't have to push yourself to make us happy."

Matt's response was a noncommittal blowing of bubbles in the ocean. He didn't stop swimming, either.

A few hours passed in silence with the only excitement being a squid entangling itself on Matt's tail only to find the dragon to be phenomenally flexible and deadly. Somewhere in the depths, there was now a dead squid with a massive bite mark in its head. And for miles afterwards, Matt constantly licked his lips with a black, forked tongue.

"So you haven't been able to sleep," Natalie said as the sun began to lower towards the horizon. "How has that affected you?"

Matt twitched slightly, but didn't answer.

"Obviously, you're fatigued more easily," Natalie pressed after a minute. "How's your natural healing? I imagine that's slowed down."

Still silence, though he tensed some.

"Natalie, I don't think it's a good idea to be tempting our ride to send us to sleep with the fishes," Lance dryly suggested.

Natalie shook her head before firmly saying, "He wouldn't. I trust him."

That actually caused Matt to freeze mid-stroke and his eyes to go wide. "You trust me?" he asked in a small voice. "How can you trust me?"

"Well, you didn't really have a choice... back then... did you. Godcat said you're bound to defend altars to some war god. Bound creatures have very little to no free will when the contract cracks down. You wouldn't have killed us if we'd turned around, right?"

"No, but that doesn't change what I did," Matt venomously hissed aloud. He struck out strongly again, trying to get the speed to get airborne once more. "I killed all of you—slaughtered you. I ripped apart any kind of bond we had. I gave you all years of nightmares, you don't even trust each other, and you still-!"

"How did you know we've been having nightmares?" Anna suddenly demanded.

"Or that we've been having a hard time seeing we can trust our friends?" Lance added suspiciously.

Matt didn't reply until after he'd managed to launch himself back into the air, displacing a huge amount of water. "I... followed you three for a few months, just after we split. I'd never done a revive before, and I needed to make sure you were all okay. And it was... for me, too. I kept zoning out into these waking nightmares where you all were dead, still, and I had to make sure it wasn't true. I had to! I couldn't stand the idea that... Not for the..."

Abruptly, he quit talking as though he'd said too much—nothing they tried could get him speaking again, either. But he'd given them plenty to think on, and so they did for hours on end, weighing his words, his actions, both past and present, his nature...

The sun dipped low in the sky, slipping past the line of the sea. In its place, the moon and stars rose, seeming extra bright and large out on the open sea. Matt was steadily gliding ever south, though he watched the sky as well. For him, it was the one non-painful constant in his life. The sky never changed, never betrayed him. He couldn't hurt the sky, and it couldn't hurt him, either. Sure, the stars shifted, the moon changed phases and eclipsed, clouds could form, and winds could howl, but overall it was the same sky he'd been born under, and the same sky that always watched him.

On his back, the other three were silently watching the sky as well. They'd never seen it so bright and clear, having usually been too close to towns, or in deep forests and caves. It made even Matt's massive dragon form seem small by comparison. And there was a sort of peaceful serenity in watching the lights flickering above them, and dancing in reflections on the waves below. Before they knew it, they were blinking awake to the sensation of Matt landing.

It was now in the eerie darkness before dawn, and they were surrounded by crumbled marble pillars and statues. Ahead of them, the three sacred jewels twinkled in the darkness, emitting a faint glow from within.

"We're here?" Natalie asked with a yawn as she pushed herself off of Matt's surprisingly comfy neck.

"We're here," Matt agreed quietly. He waited until the others slid down his side to land on the ground before shifting back and standing straight. "I'm here, Godcat, and I know you are, too. Show yourself."

A flash of light heralded the appearance of the goddess between the three jewels. Her eyes shone brightly in the darkness and her fur glimmered as though with starlight.

"You arrived quicker than I expected, given where you were," Godcat noted mildly. "Did you fly through the night?"

"I can't sleep, so why not?" Matt snorted. He jerked his head at the three standing silently behind him and added lowly, "Why did you send them after me?"

Godcat's ear twitched and she sat down. "They asked me to, and as I am indebted to them, it was only right to grant them my aid." Her eyes were scanning the dragon before her and she shook her head in wonder. "Remarkable. You truly have not changed in the last few thousand years, past growing your hair out. Had you looked this kempt the last time we spoke, perhaps I would have recognized you and held back in attacking."

"What do you want from me?" Matt pressed, refusing to be drawn into small talk. The sooner he got his answers, the sooner he could run from his former team.

"So impatient," Godcat purred. "Then again, I suppose dragons are not known for their patience. I wish to offer you a different pact."

Matt froze, his eyes going wide. Behind him, the other three sucked in sharp breaths.

"I can't," Matt finally refused. "I'm bound to Helsath, you know that."

Godcat's purring grew louder. "Helsath is greatly weakened with the destruction of his foremost shrine. And this is my plane of existence. I already far out power and outrank him. It would be a simple matter to break your pact and reforge a new one."

Matt felt dizzy at the news. He could finally be free of Helsath? Godcat had no great sites to defend, anymore; there would be no cause for him to attack those close to him. Then he felt a small tickle of fear. What would he do with himself with no need to guard anything, no need to track down potentially dangerous fighters to watch? His entire existence—his entire family's existence—had been with the understanding that he had one true task.

"Why can't he just be free of any and all pacts?" Natalie demanded.

Godcat's gaze flicked to the mage before turning back to Matt, who looked deep in thought. "Because once a pact is set the only way truly out is by the complete and permanent death of one of the pact's bound parties. And since gods cannot die, that means Matt is trapped." Her tail flicked at the understanding hum from Natalie, and she added, "Furthermore, even if I could free him, I likely would not. A guardian of his caliber, experience, and knowledge is irreplaceable."

Matt merely shrugged as his team made sounds of angry disgust. "I appreciate the honesty, at least. And it works out. I wouldn't know what to do with myself at this point, anyway." He raised a hand to halt Lance's spluttered sound of protest. "I don't expect you guys to understand. I've been alive long enough to have a hand in large parts of your history. Imagine living thousands of years, from birth to the present, with no real control over your life. I'm not sure I even know how to set a goal for myself. The closest example I can give is a bred and trained attack dog. It won't ever settle completely down and be a loving ball of fur after years of being taught that anything unusual is a threat."

"Have you ever tried?" Lance demanded heatedly.

The dead look Matt cast him was enough to cause him to flinch.

"Of course I did. Many times. You know first hand how those attempts always turned out," Matt stated flatly. He turned his eyes back to Godcat, who waited as patiently as a god could. "Helsath will seek revenge, you know that—if not against you, then against me. I won't form a new bond if it means threatening them. If you can't make some semblance of a guarantee for their safety, then there is no deal to make, and I will be bound to attack you."

"You know that such protection comes with a steep price," Godcat warned with a flick of her tail. "Perhaps you are willing to make that choice, but are they?"

Matt shrugged, the simple motion filled with exhaustion. "It's their choice to make, not mine, so why are you asking me?"

"I'm not going to bind myself all willy-nilly to a goddess on behalf of the man—or dragon—that killed me," Lance refused, not needing an explanation to know what Matt and Godcat were talking about.

With his back turned to them, they didn't see the way Matt's eyes shut to try and hide the soul-biting sorrow that refusal caused. Godcat, however, saw the break that happened, and despite all of her aloofness and half-disdain, half-grudging respect for the team, her own soul ached. It was obvious to her that at one point Lance would not have hesitated to give his life for Matt—and she was sure Matt was all too aware of that as well. Perhaps Lance couldn't understand the deadly knife that simple words could be, but any creature forced to bear cruel and damning words for eternity could. Even silence was damning—and silence was all that Natalie and Anna had to offer.

Matt had had enough. His arms fell slack at his sides and he opened his eyes to stare at Godcat in the upmost of pleading ways. "I can't do this anymore, Godcat. I choose the second freedom. Please, just give me that. You're certainly strong enough."

It took a moment before those words sank in, and the three humans behind Matt stiffened. But he wasn't finished speaking, in the wake of Godcat's own silence.

"I've destroyed everything I've ever had. You've watched, and you know this. I scorned the last of my kind, and they died out as a result. I railed against my duties, and my family paid the price. I pushed away past friends and foes alike, leaving them no reason to trust me when it mattered most, and was forced to kill them. I stupidly thought I could forge bonds strong enough to last, and yet barely a decade later and I broke those, too. I lashed out against my god and destroyed my purpose. And no matter what I try now, it won't matter. If you're any mother at all, you'll let it end."

Natalie's hand had crept up to cover her mouth as tears trailed down her cheeks. If they had thought Matt was tired and run down before, it was nothing compared to the utter lifelessness he displayed now. She just couldn't understand how it had all crashed down so suddenly and fast.

Anna, for all her fear and lingering anger at Matt, ached for him now. Never had she heard any being so utterly ready to die. The fighter in her, the part that urged to always resist, simply couldn't comprehend ever being pushed so low to want her own self-destruction. But then, what she could and couldn't understand hardly mattered where Matt was concerned.

Lance felt the awful sensation of simply knowing he was responsible for this horrible and dark turn. Matt had never given up before. Matt had pushed him to better himself, offered him the path forwards into a better future, been patient and understanding. He'd been able to rebuild because someone had reached out to him and promised there was something more waiting. And he'd repaid that miraculous chance back by repeatedly tearing down the very person who'd saved him, all for his own folly. And even then, Matt had offered yet another chance to let him try again, and at great expense to himself.

Godcat's head dipped at long last. "...If that is what you truly wish, then fly with all-gods' speed into the next world. I, Godcat, creator of life, mother to all, grant you this final gift. May you find those you've lost on the next plane, Matt, Sunclaw, Guardian of Helsath, bringer of fire, Goldwyrm, shepherd of warriors, protector of heavens, last of the dragons, last of the guardians. May your ashes ride the wind, and the skies long trumpet your triumphs."

Matt listened to the sacramental rights given to all dragons—the words he, himself had spoken many times over bodies and pyres—and tilted his head back to look at the stars. He felt nothing. There was no relief at finally resting, there was no fear at ending, there was no joy at being free. The only thing he thought he might miss were the comforting lights in the skies that had always watched him. Yet as Godcat's voice continued to recite the ceremonial words of his titles, triumphs, and blessings, a soft breeze wove past, and he caught the scent of his team. And for a brief moment, he realized he would miss them, too, regardless of what they thought of him. He wondered if they would mourn him.

"Probably not," he thought with a bittersweet smile as he shut his eyes and breathed in deeply, trying to carry a bit of them with him when he finally died. "And that's for the best."

"Farewell, Matt, and I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive us foolish gods for your suffering," Godcat murmured at last as a brilliant glow began to surround her form.

"We won't let you."

Matt's eyes opened at Natalie's defiant words. To his baffled surprise, Natalie, Anna, and Lance each stood between him and Godcat, their arms outstretched as though to shield him from her words and judgement. And now that they were closer, he could smell tears from each of them. Godcat had paused in her gathering of her power and simply cocked her head at them, as though she simply couldn't understand their defiance. And perhaps, Matt thought, perhaps as a god, she couldn't. The gods could never understand the near-suicidal actions that drove humanity's greatest efforts and achievements.

He couldn't help a faint smile at the sight of it once more, but before he could speak and assure them that this was fine and what he wanted, Lance spoke.

"I'll accept the bond," the gunner said firmly. "I'll accept it, if Matt accepts it."

"So will I," Natalie agreed just as firmly.

"And I," Anna echoed.

Matt's eyes widened, as did Godcat's, and he blurted out, "What? Why the hell would you do that?" Almost unconsciously, he reached out to grasp Lance's shoulder to tug the man around to face him. "You hate taking orders, you hate being trapped! More than all of that, you hate me! So why...?!"

"Because you deserve it. You deserve the chance to really live," Lance interrupted quietly. "Every time I ever faltered, you were that there to pick me up again. You could have killed me dozens of times and been justified, but all you ever did was grin and let me try again. Even when I finally pushed past the uncrossable line and you were forced to finally stop me, you brought me back to try again. What kind of friend would I be- no, what kind of person would I be, if I didn't do the same in return? It's taken me years with my head twisted up my own ass to realize it, but you were never in the wrong. I was. We were."

Matt shook his head wordlessly, unable to do more than stare at Lance with something just short of despair in his eyes. But then Anna started speaking.

"I always wondered why you were so quick to help me retrieve the jewels, even when Lance and Natalie didn't seem to care. You knew, even back then, what they were. You worked hard to help me, and I never understood why. Now, maybe, I think I'm starting to get it. You trusted me to do what was best, and I'm only sorry I betrayed that trust so badly."

Matt let go of Lance's shoulder to take a shaky step back, shaking his head in denial.

"You picked me up and stuck by me when everyone else had labeled me a dangerous menace," Natalie whispered. "I had no control over my magic, I was prone to emotional bursts of power, and I was so afraid. Then you showed up out of nowhere, and you helped me find my control. You never mocked me, you never turned your back on me, and you always made sure I stayed in the best of health as I learned. And then, suddenly, I wasn't a dangerous menace anymore. I had become a respected battle mage and a coveted healer. I was afraid you were going to grow bored of guarding me, that I was going to lose my best friend. But instead of walking off, you found a new goal for us to tackle together. I... I eventually took the fact that you'd always been there to mean you would always be there. I took you for granted and I pushed you to kill yourself just as much as you'd killed us. Everything that happened... We all had a part in it, we all made our choices, but had no choice, and you were forced to respond."

Matt's eyes were fixed on Natalie's, and he saw the beautiful face of the mage overlaid by dozens of others just like her speaking her words, though they had never had the chance to say anything remotely similar. How many friends, loved ones, allies, and comrades haunted him now? Was seeing their faces just a hallucination caused by severe lack of sleep? Or, maybe, they were trying to tell him something important through Natalie.

Godcat had hung back as the team talked Matt down. Inwardly, she was hopeful for reasons both selfish and not. There would never be another like Matt to follow her wishes and defend her fonts, and she sensed his friends would be the tipping point to swearing himself to her—and she would gain their services as well. But for once, personal gain was the secondary attraction. Matt had suffered unbelievably so, and it looked to finally be turning around. He was far from fine, but for the the first time ever, he had comrades, friends, loved ones... there were people who knew everything he'd ever hidden. They'd struggled to accept it, of course, but in the end, they understood. He would no longer be alone.

But would it be enough to sway a creature so utterly convinced he was on his own, as he'd been for thousands of years, and as he believed he should be?

"You guys don't know what you're agreeing to," Matt protested desperately. "You can't move on. You can't die of age, you can't kill yourself to escape. You'll be told to do things that disgust you to your very core, and you will have to do them. The gods don't care about you."

"I take offense to that."

Matt scowled over at Godcat at her dry words. "Don't try to pretend otherwise. You slaughtered your own followers just as readily as you slaughtered your enemies—followers who had done nothing to betray you. I don't care what you are a goddess of, you will never understand the mortals you created."

OOOOOO

"Well, we technically have Godcat's permission," Lance reasoned as he cracked the weathered leather journal open. "Besides, Matt probably won't get that mad at us. He's still feeling really guilty."

"That isn't a very comforting reason for snooping through his personal things," Natalie snorted disapprovingly.

As per usual, Lance ignored her morality and peered down at the first page. Almost immediately, his brow furrowed in confusion as he stared at the strange dialect in the book. In hindsight, it made perfect sense that Matt knew how to write, and likely speak, many different languages. If he and Godcat were to be believed, the dragon had lived for many, many, many generations, and language was fairly fluid. With an aggravated sigh, he flipped through the musty, yellowed, and fragile pages, trying to see if maybe the dialect would become something he was more familiar with. Sadly for him, though the language did indeed seem to change, it wasn't until the last several entries that it was anything remotely like he was used to.

"Geez, this is an archaic form of our written language," he muttered to himself. "Let's see... He's dated this entry... about seven hundred years ago? I think?"

Anna leaned over to peer at the letters and nodded her confirmation, "Yup, seven hundred and sixty three, to be exact. Huh, this is the same kind of writing our older records in Greenwood are written in."

Lance immediately passed the journal to the ranger in a silent plea for her to read it and spare him the headache. Anna rolled her eyes in exasperation, but accepted the book and moved a little closer to the lantern. She scanned a few entries before finding one that seemed interesting to begin reading the aloud.

"'The kitten armies have fallen back to the inner walls. Godcat herself rose with the sun that morn and obliterated half of the rebels troops. Sanya was among those lost, the poor girl. I told her not to go, but like everyone else, she was certain she would be fine. And why would they not be? They razed every village and temple they crossed with no resistance, why would the High Fane be any different? The fools failed to realize their creator's altar stands in the catacombs beneath the temple. Of course she rose to defend it. Helsath is laughing, I can tell. He looks forwards to the bloody days to come.'"

"So he didn't actually fight Godcat before?" Natalie mused aloud when Anna paused to find the next legible line past some water damage. "That's odd, though I suppose the gods would tend to not want to fight each other."

"No, he definitely joined the war, but late in the altercations," Anna corrected in a hum. She squinted, trying to make out the messy scrawl of the next part "'The mortals' arrogance offended Helsath, and I was sent out. They believed themselves to be gods of battle, or at least aspects of his power, a vain boast that could never stand before his pride. Still, he could have simply turned the tide against them. I do not know if I will ever forget their screams as the scores burned. It was pointless in the end, anyway. With the stolen powers of Hyndal, Dralph, and Fathgen, the rebels sealed their creator away. May the gods have mercy on their souls during judgement, though I cannot imagine Carnt to care at all. He wished me well when I spun a tale of fighting abroad, never knowing I was the calamity the felled his men. I hope he never finds me at Helsath's shrine, though I fear he will should he continue his quest to eliminate the gods.'"

"What a flowery poet," Lance snorted. "I never knew he was so eloquent."

"Written language back then was considered a sacred bond between the writer and the heavens that would span centuries," Anna explained calmly. "I imagine he picked up the habit of writing formally from whoever taught him, and as language changed, his changed, too. This next part is several years later, and a lot less stuffy."

Natalie was staring out at the dark tunnel that led to the cave entrance. "I wonder why he kept a journal at all. This is pretty horrible stuff to write down and remember. I certainly wouldn't want to have a written record that I'd slaughtered hundreds of men by fire."

"I'm sure he kept it to punish himself," Anna murmured somberly. "He's always blamed himself for the things that really mattered. It doesn't get better, either. This next passage is a memoir of this Carnt guy. He, Sanya, and Matt must've been close friends at one point, because he's written dozens of little... blurbs... about them, just before he adds that Carnt's dying curse was already being fulfilled. Matt must've had to fight and slay him, too."

"I wonder if he's written anything about us?" Natalie wondered aloud.

Anna flipped the pages before pausing on one and smiling, "He did. There's one in here about when he first met you. Apparently, your starting a wildfire with a new fire spell and needing rescuing was the highlight of his month. He struggled to not laugh as you... blamed clouds? Why the heck would you blame clouds?"

Natalie flushed and covered her face with her hands, "I was drunk, okay? Clouds are in the sky, and they move with the wind, and the wind is what sent my spell out of control, and, well, you can guess the rest." Still, she was smiling as she lowered her hands again. "He was a complete sweetheart as he escorted me back to town. I thought I'd never see him again, of course, but he was back the next day to ask if I'd come help him kill some golems."

Anna's own smile widened as she silently read a few lines that definitely stated Matt's attraction to the mage. She decided that secret could still be Matt's to share and turned the page to see a few passages about their various adventures and challenging Lance, occasionally reading funny lines aloud. His memory of even seemingly insignificant details and events was astonishing, and carefully recorded with a loving hand. The journal ended abruptly just after his recollection of their party in Greenwood post-Godcat's defeat.

"Wow," Anna murmured as she closed the book and stared down at the cracked leather of its binding. "It's too bad we can't read most of this. Probably never will, either."

"Yeah, I bet he wrote about his first lover. It's be funny to see what kind of poetry he'd use for that," Lance snorted with a perverse smile.

"Lance! For Godcat's sake, practice a little decency," Anna snapped with an exasperated sigh.

Lance, predictably, ignored her as he leaned back on his hands in mock thought. "Unless... Do you think he's still a virgin? I have no idea how a dragon's libido works, but having none at all seems pretty unlikely. Though, he's certainly never really paid attention to any hot chicks we've been around."

Anna threw her hands in the air in a gesture of disgust. "Is sex all you ever think about outside of battle? And never mind how gross it is that you're thinking of what your friend likes to bone or not."

"Oo, I had no idea you knew how to use that word."

Unseen by them in the midst of their argument, Natalie's expression had fallen. It was true that Matt had never paid any attention to her or anyone else. Not that she'd ever known, of course, but perhaps she'd been a fool to fall in love with a dragon. What if dragons could only fall in love with and want other dragons? It was a reasonable explanation, but it spelled disaster for her feelings for him.

The mage quietly excused herself from the bickering pair and slipped out of the small library and back towards Matt's bedroom. Her distant eyes watched her feet as she skirted large piles of gold, artifacts, and jewels until the stone changed to a worn crimson rug. She looked up to see Matt still asleep on the canopied bed, snuggled into the silk pillows with the sheets tangled about his shoulders and his hair across his face. He looked so perfect and innocent as he slept there, and she found herself drawn to sit on the edge of the mattress near his head.

The dragon didn't stir as her slight weight caused the mattress to dip, still held under by years of exhaustion and simple bliss at being able to sleep at long last. He didn't twitch as a soft, gentle hand carefully brushed his golden hair off his cheek to tuck behind his ear, nor when that hand returned to stroke his cheek with an equally gentle thumb.

A glint of water dripped to the silk sheets, leaving a darker spot, and was followed by more. Natalie's expression never changed and her touch was still butterfly light, but tears ran down her cheeks to fall from her chin. He was so sweet, and strong, and kind, and the only one who had ever truly understood her, and she had secretly loved him for so long. How cruel was it that all this time he hadn't been as innocent and oblivious as he'd always pretended? There was no way he could have missed her affection for him, but he'd never said a word or even hinted at knowing. She could only assume he didn't love her in return and had tried to spare her feelings by pretending to not notice them.

But perhaps that was for the best, for had she ever truly understood him? She had failed to notice he wasn't even human. She'd looked past the warnings and signs: the unnatural strength, the enormous vitality and experience far beyond any young man, the relative anonymity for someone so talented. Even once she'd learned the truth about his species, she had failed to understand him. Was her love so shallow that being given the truth at long last was too much to keep the feelings alive? Or maybe she was just too selfish and judgmental to properly love someone so pure.

Natalie's hand lifted away from Matt's skin, and she immediately missed his warmth. Fresh tears burned behind her eyes, but more alarming was the way she could feel her mana prickle beneath her skin. It had been many years since she'd last felt the sensation, but she knew immediately what it was. With a sharp inhale of fear, she stood up and fled the room.

Lance and Anna were still affectionately bickering when she ran past the library, and their voices echoed behind her down the stone caves as she ran outside. Just as soon as she cleared the cave entrance, she felt a pulse of magic leave her unbidden. Lightning crackled from her body in a deadly aura, and she squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to remember every lesson Matt had offered or that she'd taught herself about control.

"Focus on your breathing," Matt's voice echoed in her mind. "You need a medium for your thoughts, and timing your breaths can help a long way with that. Don't think about what you might be frying, just focus on the inhale... and the exhale."

But, for once, thinking of his voice made everything worse. Natalie's breathing hitched as even more tears coursed down her face. The lighting grew even more wild with her soaring emotions, and as the lightning grew, so did her panic, fueling a dangerous and deadly cycle.

Lance and Anna had come running at the sudden outflow of energy from Natalie, and they were now gaping at her as she crackled with power strong enough to scorch the stone around her. Neither one had ever seen her lose control of her magic before, and their wide eyes met each other as they wondered what to do. Approaching her meant almost certain death, but she clearly needed help regaining control.

As they hesitated, Natalie slid to her hands and knees, wheezing on panicked breaths. The world seemed to spin around her and the stone beneath her cracked and cratered as her mana continued to swell out of control.

Anna had just taken an instinctive step forwards when a flash of gold and black launched past her.

Matt threw himself headlong into the lighting without hesitation, conjuring up a powerful barrier around his skin to protect himself. His heart raced with fear as he skidded to a halt in front of Natalie and gripped her by the shoulders to haul her upright. Her wild eyes met his, glowing faintly with a pale yellow light, and despite his great talent with magic and natural defenses, he could feel tiny slices of lightning cut his palms where their skin met. Her entire form trembled with raw, untamed energy wanting to escape faster than she could manage at the moment. It would kill her before much longer.

Despite that terror, Matt forced himself to speak calmly and clearly. "Listen to me, you're fine, Natz," he soothed. "Come on, follow my lead, you're gonna be okay, I promise."

The dragon had slid his right hand to intertwine with her left hand and held the other hand out and away from the cliff face, aiming at the air. In the next second, he opened his mana up as a pathway for hers and felt every muscle in his body tense as he let the wild energy shoot through his mana paths and out his other hand into the sky. Like a dam's flood gates being opened, the built up mana surged away from Natalie and through Matt. The smell of burning air coupled with wild flashing and loud hissing booms filled the next several tense seconds, and clouds rapidly formed from the violent displacement of air and mana. But the display couldn't last with such intensity now that the mana had a proper focused path to follow.

Matt finally released Natalie's hand to press her ear to his chest and focused on breathing evenly. His left hand was steaming after the lightning finally faded, and his fingertips were completely numb. Still, he brought that hand down to stroke through Natalie's hair and down her back as she trembled against his chest. She had taken his unspoken command to focus on his breathing and heart rate, and was steadily calming herself down.

"There, see? That was scary, but you're fine, now. You're perfectly fine," he murmured soothingly as she began to cry.

No more words were spoken until Natalie had wound herself down. She was still badly shaking from emotions and mana exhaustion, but she soon sat silently half-curled in Matt's lap.

"What brought that on?" Matt asked in a low, concerned tone. "You haven't lost control since... geez... not since a few months after we met up."

Natalie stiffened and pulled away, and was thankful that Matt let her go easily, though she missed the upset that briefly glinted in his eyes before he sealed it away.

"Just... just the stress of the last few weeks finally got the better of me, I guess?" she shakily said. She swallowed and refused to meet his disbelieving eyes as she meekly added, "Thanks for saving me. Again."

"Even if I don't deserve it," she silently added to herself.

Matt silently and critically studied Natalie's posture for several long moments. "You're lying to me," he finally stated in a half accusing tone.

Natalie flinched and seized the distraction of Lance and Anna finally approaching to avoid responding to his accusation. "Sorry about that, guys," she mumbled.

"Are you okay? That was..." Anna trailed off, unsure of how to describe what had happened.

Lance was glancing between Natalie and Matt. He hadn't heard their brief conversation, but he'd known both of them for long enough to know something was up between them. Questions could wait, however, as he took in the blood dripping from Matt's hand.

"Good work, Matt," he finally said. "Do you need any help with your hand?"

Natalie tensed again and whipped around to take in what she'd done to Matt. Multiple slices on his right palm sluggishly oozed blood, and angry red lines crisscrossed his left palm from the lightning. Plus, he still had a shadow of tiredness in his eyes that said he would have been sleeping still if she hadn't had a meltdown.

Matt didn't seem concerned as he lifted his hands to inspect them. "Nah, I heal fast. These'll be gone in a few minutes. Still..."

A brief glow surrounded his hands as he channeled a little of his mana to seal the wounds, leaving behind smooth skin. With that done, he turned his eyes back on Natalie, who immediately looked away again.

"So what brought on the breakdown?" Matt asked again. He waited a few moments before pressing, "Natalie, this is serious. You have far too much mana to be losing control of it. You could have died just now."

Natalie stubbornly refused to answer, leaving Matt to turn to Lance and Anna.

"What were you guys doing just before this?"

Anna and Lance exchanged uncertain glances.

"We were sitting in your library arguing about your, ah... sex life," Lance finally admitted sheepishly and gesturing between himself and Anna. "Natalie had wandered off, but she seemed fine before she left."

Matt's eyebrows shot up at that and a light blush settled on his cheeks. "You were arguing about my what?"

Anna finally spilled. "We, um, we wanted to learn more about you, so we went to your library to see if you had any books from way back when, to try and give us an insight on how life was. Instead, we found, er..."

Matt stilled and his expression closed off. "You snooped through my journal, right?"

"Well if you would just talk to us, we wouldn't have to snoop," Lance shot back heatedly.

"Whatever. You can't have been able to read most of it, anyway, and certainly nothing in there that you can read would have been talking about past lovers," Matt finally said dismissively with a wave of his hand. "And we're getting off track. Natalie, just tell me what's wrong? Please? I don't want anything bad to happen to you, but I can't help if I don't know what's wrong."

Even though she knew it would hurt him, Natalie couldn't stop herself from lashing out. "Why should I talk to you when you never once really talked to me?" she hissed.

Matt flinched back with wide eyes, and both Lance and Anna's jaws dropped open. But Natalie wasn't done talking.

"Did I ever mean anything to you? Was all I ever was just a useful source of healing? Apparently, since you just strung me along like everyone else you've ever known! Against all my better thoughts, I trusted you, but you couldn't ever be bothered to do the same in return, could you? No, you couldn't and wouldn't, and because you couldn't and wouldn't trust me, you killed me instead! I had never, ever wanted to do anything bad to you, and you still... How can I possibly want to talk to you?"

"Natalie," Lance said warningly with his eyes fixed on the top of Matt's head as it ducked.

She ignored him as she swept on. "You couldn't pull your head out of the past long enough to really think, could you?! Then again, you've never thought at all, so why should I look back and have expected anything different! All you ever were was a chained and beaten hound incapable of opening up to anyone for any reason, instead lashing out to hurt those who reached out to you. I should just figure you're never going to really care!"

"Natalie!" Anna barked from where she'd moved to kneel and give Matt a tight hug. "Quit being a spiteful bitch and look at what you're doing to him!"

Matt had curled into himself to cry, desperately trying to block out the words Natalie was hurling at him. To him, he had tried once again to help and change, only to have it backfire once again. If even Natalie, the most caring woman he'd ever known, had decided he was a worthless waste of flesh...

The dragon seemed to melt in on himself, shifting to the form of a golden dragon the size of a large squirrel. Anna tipped forwards at the abrupt loss of a solid body, and caught herself on her hands as she gaped at the tiny, glinting form of Matt as he darted away with surprising speed for a body so small. Lance snatched for him as he tried to fly past and back into his den, and managed to just barely snag the serpentine tail. Matt let out a protesting squeak as he struggled uselessly against Lance's grip, flapping wildly and writhing.

"Nope, I remember what happened the last time we let you run off," Lance refused firmly. "You're staying here, bucko."

The gunner cast a cold, disgusted glance over his shoulder at where Natalie was staring at Matt, before turning away with a snort to head back into the cave. Matt had given up trying to escape and dangled limply from Lance's hand, and didn't try to flee when he was draped over the gunner's shoulder. Anna threw her own sour look at Natalie as she followed the pair inside, leaving the mage to sit alone on the stone of the cliff, even as the storm clouds finally opened up to let rain fall down.

Inside the den, Lance had set Matt down on a plush pillow, and sorrowfully took in the limp and defeated form of the dragon. "We're still here for you, Matt," he promised. "Trust has to start somewhere, and we still trust you. It's going to take some time for you to open up, I know, but you've finally got some people who know the truth and still want to be your friends. So please don't run away; give us a chance to know you, alright?"

Matt had lifted his tiny scaled head to look up at Lance, and slowly nodded it before curling into a tight ball to tuck his head under a wing.

"Yeah, get some more rest," Anna murmured fondly. "Maybe next time we speak, you won't look like death warmed over."

There was no acknowledgement from the dragon, though they didn't know if that was because he was refusing to reply or if it was because he'd already fallen back asleep. Regardless, they both retreated from his room to head back to the library to talk.

Lance slumped to sit on a worn chair and rubbed his palms over his eyes. "Gods, between Matt running off, and Natalie's hormones... Speaking of, can you go and make sure she doesn't run off next?"

"Sure. Shortsighted brat or not, Matt'll be crushed if Natz runs away," Anna agreed dourly as she turned to go.

The ranger trekked back down the stone halls to the cavern entrance to see that it was pouring rain, still. To her relief, Natalie was still seated where she'd been left, soaked to the bone with her hair plastered to her head and back. She didn't shiver, nor did she acknowledge Anna stepping out into the rain to stand beside her. Her blue eyes were half-hidden behind her dripping bangs and were distantly fixed on the sheets of falling water.

"You should come inside," Anna finally stated after several minutes. When that elicited no response, she tried, "Come on, Natalie. Matt wouldn't want you to get sick."

"I'll be in later."

The words were so soft Anna nearly missed them in the sound of the rain. She arched a brow, already thinking of all the ways 'later' could be interpreted. "How about now. You can sulk out of the rain just as effectively as you can in the rain."

Natalie shook her head and tilted her face towards the sky with her eyes closed to let the rain wash her hair back. "I need the rain to stay calm. I... I could really hurt one of you right now. The sound is... It's enough to keep me distracted."

An icy wind chilled Anna's legs both times Natalie's voice broke, as though to prove her point. Still, she refused to leave Natalie behind, though more out of irritation than concern.

"You already hurt Matt."

Several droplets flash froze into hail and clattered to the stone before Natalie desperately redirected the mana into an exhale of frost.

"Go away, Anna, you're not helping," Natalie said in a brittle voice. "If what you're worried about is me running off, or jumping, or whatever, I'm not going to. I can't suicide under the bond, and I know better than to think I can avoid all three of you for forever. Now leave me alone."

Anna winced at the underlying defeat in Natalie's voice as well as the way the air seemed to drop in temperature again. "Alright. Just... It isn't all over for you guys, yet, so keep that in mind."

Natalie said nothing, and Anna retreated back into the cave. The water dripping from her clothes echoed even over the sound of the rain outside, but Anna hardly noticed as she walked back to Lance, lost in thought.

"You look like a drowned Tanuki."

Anna started at the teasing remark and looked up to see Lance smirking at her from over a large tome. The gunner had propped his feet up on a stool and started a fire for extra warmth and light, and it reflected in his eyes, making them seem to glow.

"It's raining pretty hard, now, is all," Anna replied after a few moments as she settled down in front of the fire to try and dry off.

Her hands absentmindedly wrung some of the water from her hair before she pulled it all loose from the braid to separate the strands to allow for quicker drying. The air around her warmed some, and she looked up from the flames to see Lance watching her, obviously heating the air to help her warm up and dry off.

"So, is Natz in?"

"...No, she said she needed the rain to stay calm, and I'm willing to believe her. She's still not quite in complete control of her magic right now. Still, she promised not to run off or anything; said she knew we'd find her eventually, so it wasn't worth trying."

"Mm. Better than Matt considered, I guess," Lance sighed as he studied Anna's expression. "You seem more worried now. Did she say something else?"

"It wasn't so much what she said but how she said it, you know?" Anna quietly replied. "I'm worried about her... and Matt. She's smart and strong enough to find some way out of the bond—I'm sure of it. What I'm not sure of is how... moral... any way out will end up being, and how much she won't care."

Lance let out a deep sigh as he settled even further down in his seat. "All we can do is watch them."

"Yeah..."

It wasn't until late that evening that Matt woke again. He unfurled from his ball and sat up to look around his room with his shoulders hunched miserably. No one was nearby, but he could sense Lance and Anna a few rooms over, and Natalie a little further than that. The mage's mana was significantly lower than normal, but he'd expected that after her meltdown. Now he was just too afraid to actually go look at her and see how she was doing physically. Her words of fury and disgust still echoed in his head, and his tail flicked uncomfortably.

Maybe, he thought, maybe where he'd always gone wrong was in pretending to be something he wasn't. He wasn't human; he wasn't even mortal. He was a dragon, an ancient and powerful predator, a wild monster with just enough semblance of reason and morality to stand above other monsters. Yet he couldn't imagine trying to behave like- to be a dragon. His parents had never behaved like wild, vicious monsters, after all. But he had.

"Maybe I should be something different," Matt thought. "Not a human, not a dragon. Just a... a helpful little monster? I'll still be around, still capable of fulfilling my duties as a guardian, just without having to try and fail to talk to people?"

With a glint of desperate hope in his eyes, Matt nodded to himself and leapt off his pillow and into the air to search out the others. He found Lance engrossed in reading an ancient text on monsters in the library. Lance glanced up to look at him as he landed on the stool by the gunner's feet.

"Hey, Matt, glad to see you're up," Lance greeted with a smile as he set the book aside. "How're you feeling?"

Matt shrugged and scratched under one horn with his hind foot. He pretended not to see the amused glint in Lance's eyes for the animalistic motion as his own eyes drifted to where his journal sat innocently on the low table. His tail flicked at the sight of it and he felt an almost irresistible urge to burn the offending book. Whatever had been in it had ruined his dreams of finally being happy.

Whatever. He had a new dream, now. He'd be the best little dragon ever, and someone would finally not mind having him around.

"Hungry?" Lance asked as he stood up. "I know Anna went out to catch a deer earlier and was planning on smoking it after she pulled the best bits for venison stew."

Matt sprang back into the air and circled until Lance stood before landing on the gunner's shoulder. Lance shot him a strange look, but said nothing as he strode for the door towards where Anna had claimed an empty cave as a larder and dining hall. The ranger had been busy, he could tell, because there were wood shavings all over the place, and she'd gather and assembled the pieces to make a rough table and some stools. At that moment, she was smoothing the seats of the stools with a planer and some sandpaper to remove any splinters while a steaming pot over a fire filled the air with the delicious smell of cooking food.

"Hey, Lance, Matt!" Anna greeted cheerfully after blowing an errant strand of hair out of her eyes. "I've almost got the furniture ready. Stew will be done in a bit."

"Smells good," Lance complimented. He nodded at the table and chairs and added, "And I'm impressed you got these together so fast. They're not bad... for a backwoods country girl."

Anna's beaming smile quickly dropped into a scowl and she flipped Lance off as she turned back to her work. "You can just eat a rock off the floor," she muttered.

Lance shot a grin at Matt as he sauntered over to sit on one of the stools. "Would you really make me eat a- Whoa!"

Anna whistled innocently as Lance picked himself up off the ground with a groan after she'd shoved the stool out from under him just as he'd sat down. Her eyes sparkled with laughter at his irritated growl, and she ducked the wood chip he flung at her. Still, despite his outward irritation, there was a contentment about him that said he wasn't really mad.

Matt had taken off as soon as he'd felt Lance begin to fall, and now sat on the edge of the table watching them. They seemed happy; it was a relief to know someone was. He itched to know if Natalie was okay, but he doubted she would want to see him in any form.

A bowl of stew being placed in front of him distracted Matt from his thoughts and he blinked up at Anna.

"C'mon, change back and have some food," Anna urged as she moved around the table to help Lance up—a steaming bowl waited for the gunner, despite her earlier threat.

Matt looked down at the stew. The broth was thick, the meat plentiful, there were few vegetables—all just as he liked it—and there was even a chunk of fresh bread sitting beside the bowl for dipping. He wanted the food so bad, but he couldn't eat it. He was just a monster, now, after all, and monsters didn't eat at tables with people.

Lance frowned as Matt swooped off of the table to sit on the floor. "Uh, short stuff? You're gonna need a few extra inches if you want to have dinner."

A squeak was all he got in reply, and Anna snorted in amusement. Lance, however, was beginning to look concerned.

"Matt, turn back," Lance said flatly. When the dragon simply stared at him, he swallowed and asked, "You can, still, can't you?"

Now Anna was nervous, too, when Matt simply sat there and stared. "C'mon, Matt, don't you want some stew?" she wheedled.

Matt took off and flew out of the room, leaving Anna and Lance staring after him.

"What the hell?" Lance murmured uneasily. "He's not... y'know... stuck like that, is he?"

Anna shook her head in confusion. "I doubt it, but then why not turn back? It's not like we've never seen him do it."

Neither person had any appetite left as a feeling of foreboding rose in each of them.

Natalie was still sitting outside in the fading rainstorm. Her body trembled with shivers as the sun set and the temperature dropped, but she refused to go inside until she'd expended all of her mana and could trust that she wouldn't hurt someone by accident.

"You already hurt Matt."

Natalie's jaw clenched as Anna's words floated through her thoughts for the hundredth time since being said. She had hurt Matt. Had what been said been true? Yes, to a point. Had it been what she'd been feeling? Yes, to a point. Should she have said it? No, probably not. But she was only human, and had been hurting, and stressed from events and her mana going out of control. Still, she regretted having taken that stress and anger out on Matt, who had only just begun to trust them even a little again.

A gentle weight settled on her shoulder and she started before glancing to see a small, golden shape sitting on her. Matt, in a small dragon form, had come to sit with her, and curled his tail loosely around her neck. He was... really warm... she noted as he pressed up against the icy skin of her neck and cheek. Some of the remaining anxious pulses of mana began to settle back under her control. It helped even more when he lowered his head to rest against her collarbone and began to thrum gently, almost like a cat purring.

"I-I'm s-sorry ab-bout what I s-said," Natalie whispered with chattering teeth. "Y-you had just b-been trying to h-help, and I repaid y-you with h-horrible w-words."

Matt didn't say anything in reply, but he seemed to thrum a little more loudly, and his tail pressed a little tighter, like a hug. Natalie's eyes welled with fresh tears at his gentle, forgiving nature. She shut her eyes and simply listened to and felt the quiet rumbling, not noticing as her shivers began to die down. It was like the most soothing of lullabies, and it made her really tired.

Matt, however, did notice, and he became alarmed. His head popped up and he let out a loud squeak that went ignored. Barely a second later, and he was forced to spring away as Natalie toppled over to lie on her side in a puddle as the drizzling rain continued to mist down on her. Her skin was pale and freezing to the touch, her lips blue, and her breathing very slow.

Without a moment's pause, Matt shifted back into his human form to snatch her up, his heart racing with fear. It hadn't seemed cold enough for her to be vulnerable to hypothermia, but she had been wearing wet clothes, and though he didn't know it, she had been expelling ice magic.

The dragon darted past Lance just coming out of the kitchen, who let out a startled cry. He didn't stop until he was in his room where he promptly spat a lick of fire on the heatstone near his bed before laying Natalie down. It was a simple matter to pull her soaked and icy clothing off and wrap her in warm sheets. He missed Lance and Anna watching with wide eyes as he darted away briefly to get some towels to dry her hair. She was still too cold, and it was a race to get her back to a temperature that wouldn't kill her. But even with the dry sheets, the heated stone, and the vigorous rubbing and chafing of her skin, Natalie's heart continued to slow.

Matt promptly wormed his way under the sheets beside her, turned into a dragon not much smaller than her, and pressed full against her side. Natalie gave an unconscious shiver at the abrupt warmth that washed through her and let out a hoarse moan as she pressed a little closer. Matt curled his tail around her legs in response and rested his chin on her chest above the sheets.

"...She gonna be okay?" Anna finally asked, breaking the tense silence.

Lance chanced stepping closer and was relieved when Matt simply watched him with no aggression. He laid two fingers against Natalie's neck and found her heart rate to be more or less steady. He moved his hand up to peel her eyelids back and was relieved to see the pupils dilate. Finally, he laid a hand on her forehead and shut his eyes as he sensed out her mana, and found it to be stable, if ridiculously low.

"I think she'll be fine, if pretty weak for a few days," he finally decided. "Her mana is way down from earlier, and that's going to make it hard for her to regulate her body temperature, and she'll probably get a little sick. She's out of immediate danger from hypothermia, but you have to make sure the opposite doesn't happen, too. Your body temperature is higher than hers by quite a lot in that form, and we don't want her to suffer heat exhaustion, next. Give her another ten minutes, then get out from under the sheets."

Much of that was directed at Matt, who nodded ever so slightly. Lance stepped back again, cast one last eye across Natalie's sleeping face, then nodded and turned to head out, snagging Anna's wrist as he went. Ten minutes passed in complete silence, and then Matt squirmed out from under the sheets, taking care to replace them over Natalie to cover her nudity. Then he shifted back to his tiny dragon form and sat on her pillow with his eyes fixed dedicatedly on her face.

Hours passed that way, and he heard Anna and Lance call a good night, but he remained awake and vigilant. There could be no mistakes with Natalie's health. He'd messed up enough in her life, already. But despite his dedication, his eyes were tired, and he still longed to sleep, and her heart was beating a nice, steady rhythm, and the sheets on her looked so soft...

Without really thinking about what he was doing, Matt crept up onto Natalie's stomach and loosely curled there with his head resting on her chest, watching her face. It didn't take long before the rhythmic rise and fall of her breathing alongside her heartbeat and comforting scent caused him to drift off. His last thought before he fell asleep was that he hoped she wouldn't be too mad about him stripping her.

Natalie woke the following morning feeling sore and groggy. Her eyes peeled open to blearily stare at the red canopy overhead. She blinked at the sight for a few moments before bringing one hand up to press against her forehead as she felt an immense headache already forming. The limb trembled with exhaustion, and she soon let it flop above her head as she rolled her face to the side. There was no one there.

For some reason, her brow furrowed in confusion, certain that someone was here without quite knowing why. Then she felt a slight shift on her stomach and braved lifting her head slightly to see Matt draped there and asleep. His small head was resting on one of her breasts like it were a pillow, and he had one wing stretched out comfortably in sleep. Natalie flushed as she let her head flop back down, but couldn't bring up the strength to move him off of her.

It didn't really matter, anyway. He didn't like her like that—couldn't like her like that.

The dismal thought had her squeezing her eyes shut to try and keep the tears that formed from falling.

"How're you feeling?"

Anna's soft voice startled Natalie out of her thoughts and she looked to the side again to see the ranger standing just inside the room with a platter of food.

"Miserable," Natalie replied honestly. She let out a sad laugh and shut her eyes again. "Everything went wrong, and it's my fault. Now I know how Matt feels, huh?"

Anna's heart clenched as she padded over to the bed and sat down, setting the tray of food aside. Her eyes trailed over where Matt still slept, clearly not back at full strength and needing sleep. Still, despite the strange face, he looked content, and his mana certainly felt content.

"Not everything went wrong," Anna promised quietly. She nodded down at Matt. "He seems pretty happy right now. Plus you got him to shift back last night. Lance and I were worried that he was stuck in his dragon form for some reason."

"How can he be happy with me?" Natalie bitterly wondered aloud. "All I ever seem to do is hurt him, anymore."

Anna shook her head and reached over to smooth Natalie's bangs back. "We've all hurt each other, recently, and we're never going to stop if we can't break the cycle and say enough is enough. No more hurting ourselves, and no more hurting our loved ones, alright?"

Natalie didn't reply, but her eyes softened some, which was apparently good enough for Anna, who stood off the bed with a smile.

"Sit up and have some food," Anna urged as she walked out. "I'm sure if you move him slowly, Matt'll stay asleep."

As she'd guessed, the dragon did stay asleep and soon Natalie was seated upright with Matt in her lap. He'd simply curled into a loose ball in her lap with a soft, breathy sigh and continued slumbering. Natalie couldn't help but idly compare him to a cat as she nibbled on a piece of toast spread with some kind of tart berry jam. Her lips curled into a faint smile when she ran three fingers along the curve of his neck, and he rustled his wings before beginning to purr.

That was when she noticed that she wasn't wearing any clothes.

Natalie squeaked in embarrassment, and yanked a pillow around to cover her chest, knocking Matt off her lap, and nearly spilling her food onto the floor. The small dragon tumbled sideways with a startled squeak before sitting up to blink around him in sleepy confusion. His deep blue eyes landed on Natalie and seemed to light up at the sight of her sitting upright and awake. He flitted into the air with a happy chirp to land lightly on her head with his tail draped over her right shoulder. His claws lightly scratched along her scalp as he steady himself, but he was careful not to hurt her. Still, Natalie swatted him off.

"Why am I naked?" she demanded hotly with bright red cheeks.

Matt dropped like a stone back onto the mattress with his shoulders hunched, looking distinctly guilty, but also unapologetic.

"You stripped me? Why?"

"Because you were close to freezing to death, that's why," Lance answered from the doorway. He had a bundle of cloth in his arms that tossed to land on the floor by Natalie's feet, revealing them to be a clean change of clothes. "Standard effective procedure when a human's internal body temperature drops to dangerously low degrees is to remove all wet clothing, and share body heat. Matt did that for you to save your life, so how about instead of snapping at him, you thank him, and apologize for the things you said last night?"

Natalie winced and glanced at Matt, only to see that he'd vanished from the bed. Just as the last time, however, Lance snagged the dragon as he tried to dart away, intending to haul him back over to Natalie to make him listen to the apology he needed to hear and deserved.

Unfortunately, Matt didn't simply go limp this time, instead, he twisted with a vicious hiss and sank tiny, needle-sharp fangs into the gunner's wrist. Lance yelped and reflexively released Matt, who twisted midair to right himself and zipped off without another sound.

"I'm on your side here, prick," Lance called angrily as he delicately massaged the skin around the fang marks on his wrist.

Natalie had watched the exchange with wide eyes. A part of her wondered if maybe Matt thought she wasn't going to apologize sincerely. That same part of her also thought she didn't deserve to have him nearby. And just like that, she felt her mana, which had only just begun to return, begin to roil uneasily. She sucked in a sharp breath and avoided Lance's look of concern.

"I'm going to get dressed, so if you could just..."

She gestured vaguely with one hand at the exit, and Lance rolled his eyes and left, muttering about getting Anna to heal his wrist. As soon as he was gone, she was up and rapidly pulling up the clothes he'd brought her, only to pause as she saw them for the first time. The outfit consisted of a long, robe-like dress of deep crimson silk and a golden sash. Flames were embroidered along the sleeves in gold thread and looked to be hand sewn, and it was cut in a style she'd never seen before, but had to admit was lovely. It had to have cost a fortune, and she wondered if maybe it had come from somewhere in Matt's hoard. She couldn't imagine why he'd hung on to a woman's outfit, especially since it had no enchantment, but she shrugged the thought off and hesitantly folded it back up to lay on the bed. It was far too beautiful for someone like her to wear.

Instead, she found her red dress from the day before crumpled on the ground, hopelessly wrinkled and smelling of rain, but dry. She pulled that on, staring at the folded garb on the bed, lost in thought. Had it belonged to a past lover? A sibling? His mother, perhaps? Had he gotten it to give as a gift—not to her, of course, but perhaps to a friend long since dead? In fact, why did he even have such human luxuries filling his den? The gold and valuables, she could understand, but he'd shown in the past that he was comfortable anywhere, and didn't seem to much care for expensive furnishings. Yet he had a canopied bed spread with silk sheets and plush pillows, chairs and other furniture made of finely carven wood, mirrors and sofas, long and luxurious carpets... Why all of the creature comforts if he was never around, and didn't need, or seem to even want them?

"There had to have been someone living with him," Natalie realized aloud to herself as she stared around the space with new eyes. She took in the delicate curves of the bed frame, the tapestries depicting forested scenes and floral designs, and the mirrored vanity. Her eyes fell back on the robe on the bed. "A woman... A lover, maybe?"

Her heart gave a dull throb, and her mana prickled under her skin. and she turned away to head for the door. She couldn't stay there, ruining an image Matt had clearly sustained. Besides, she needed to go somewhere to meditate as she tried to sort out her mana on her own.

The mage snuck past where Lance and Anna were chatting over breakfast—a simple bandage was wrapped around the gunner's wrist, and the wound didn't seem to be bothering him, now. She didn't see Matt on her way for the cavern entrance, and he wasn't outside on the worn stone perch overlooking the island. With a sigh of relief, she picked her way down the treacherous and winding stone path down the cliff side. But now that she was looking, she saw a very faint, but even series of bumps all along the incline.

"Weather has worn them away, but these must've been stairs, once," Natalie murmured aloud as she knelt to run her hand over the stone. "Granite... it had to have been centuries since they were hewn for them to be this smoothed. Of course, he doesn't need stairs if he can just fly up and down the cliff."

It was yet another sign pointing to the theory that Matt had shared his den with someone else, someone who wasn't a dragon. She put that thought aside as firmly as she could, and rose to her feet to continue walking with new purpose. She could see a river not too far away, and by how swiftly it was flowing, she guessed that there had to be a waterfall nearby, or some sort of source.

Twenty minutes of walking, and fifteen minutes of hiking later, and she found herself standing on a bluff high above the island. To her right was the smooth curve of a massive waterfall, pouring out of an enormous lake that she assumed was being fed by some kind of underwater spring. A few trees ringed the edge of the water, which was a deep, clear blue. To her left was the steep trail she'd climbed to reach the plateau. Above her was the wide sky stretching all the way down to the ocean on the distant horizon.

Natalie—sweaty, physically tired from the hike, and mentally tired from trying to control her mana—simply sat herself down on a flat rock near the edge of the cliff beside the lip of the waterfall. She crossed her legs beneath her, rested her hands on her knees, and took a deep breath as she shut her eyes. The first step of any kind of mana control was control of the body, she knew, so she focused on easing her heavy breaths and slowing her heart down to normal.

With that done, she turned her efforts to the second step: controlling her mind. She took her lingering thoughts of misery, hurt, and fear, and mentally set them out before her, and she set her feelings of peace, happiness, and wonder beside them. Positive emotions were easier to acknowledge and accept, so she focused on them first.

She was peaceful because of the clean air, and natural sounds from the river, wind, and birds. She was happy, even after everything that had happened, because Matt was free of Helsath, and starting a new, admittedly bumpy, but happier chapter in his life. Her wonder came from everything she'd recently learned about her friend and the new opportunities open to her now that she was effectively immortal. She knew all of that, she accepted them, and she let them go.

But without those small, but wonderful things, she had to acknowledge the darker things. She was miserable. She'd hurt Matt, she'd hurt herself, and she couldn't seem to stop. She was hurt, because all the time she'd spent with Matt seemed inconsequential and ridiculous when she put it in the perspective of just ten years in a lifetime that spanned thousands. And she was afraid, so very afraid. Her mana was beyond her control, she had countless years ahead to endure and overcome, her greatest support in Matt had been badly shaken, possibly destroyed, and she didn't know what to do to help any of it.

The simplest solution, her mind darkly pointed out, would be to remove herself from the equation. But even if she had truly wanted to do that, she couldn't. Matt had explained how suiciding worked—she would simply reform at Godcat's altar where her soul was bound. Running to spare Matt, Lance, and Anna from having to deal with her wasn't a real option. It hadn't worked for Matt, and if a wyrm with millennia of experience and a wonderful remote getaway hadn't been able to escape his troubles, then she never could. And by the growing prickles under her skin, she was incapable of taming her mana on her own.

Perhaps Godcat could help her? Assuming, of course, that Godcat would even appear just to deal with her pathetic guardian's equally pathetic romantic troubles. But maybe the goddess would help with her mana?

The hopeful thought quickly died. She couldn't leave the island without Matt's help.

"...And you're not supposed to be brooding," Natalie muttered to herself as she opened her eyes to glare down at her lap. "You're supposed to be focusing on getting your mana under control."

Maybe what she needed was a change of strategy. Meditating wasn't going to work while she was so worked up. So instead of running and trying to shackle her out of control mana, she should use it. Surely she could simply open a pathway and keep a loose control on it? Natalie nodded to herself with more outward certainty than she really felt. She stood up, directed her eyes up at a passing cloud, raised a hand, and let loose.

The world seemed to go completely still and silent for an eternal second. Birds quit chirping, the breeze stopped, and animals all over the island turned to look at the sky. Then the hushed peace was shattered and a beam of pure energy erupted into the sky and ripped apart the cloud Natalie had been aiming for. An invisible shockwave blasted out from the plateau the mage stood on, bending trees back, and forcing a massive ripple on the ocean that spread out towards the horizon.

In the cave, Lance and Anna were knocked from their seats and slammed into a cavern wall where they groaned and sat up in baffled alarm. Matt, who had been hiding in a tiny hovel above his treasure room, dug his claws into the stone to stay still while his head whipped up in disbelief. None of them had ever felt such power before, but they knew that mana, and they knew Natalie was responsible.

In a flash, Matt squirmed out of his hiding place and dropped to the floor, all thoughts of staying a small dragon gone. Whatever had caused Natalie to unleash such power wasn't going to be stopped by a flying lizard. He shifted back into a human and began racing out of the cave, only to pause when he smelled blood—Anna's blood.

After a brief hesitation, he changed course, knowing he was closer to Anna than he was to Natalie, and that he would likely need her help. Luckily, the smell of blood wasn't from the ranger having been attacked, but from a deep cut in her shoulder when a knife had sunk into it when everything had been flung. Lance had already pulled the knife free and was holding a wadded cloth to the wound with one hand while breaking open one of his healing capsules with the other. Anna was blinking dazedly, and Matt assumed she was suffering a concussion.

"Go to Natalie," Lance ordered bluntly without looking up. "We'll catch up as soon as I've got Anna back on her feet."

"Right," Matt agreed as he spun around to race away.

His feet carried him past his treasure rooms, where the piles had all been thrown across the floor, and down the twisting halls to the outside where he promptly froze in complete amazement, his eyes going wide. Never in his entire long life had he ever seen anything like what was in the sky now. It was like a massive claw had ripped through the heavens to leave a jagged, pulsing wound that bled crimson light. The ground was stained an eerie red, and the sky seemed to be tinted faintly with purple. And there were thousands of black shapes streaming through the sky in all sizes, looking minuscule at their distance, which he knew meant they were in fact massive up close.

The dragon shook his head to break his stare and turned his mind to the immediate issue of finding Natalie. Her mana was stable, but low again, and he promptly shifted to his larger dragon form and leapt off the cliff to soar towards her. To his relief, he found her standing alone on the plateau near the center of his island, unharmed and staring up at the sky. Strangely, a crater had formed around where she stood, slowly filling with water from the spring, though she didn't seem to notice.

"Are you okay?" Matt asked as soon as he'd landed and shifted back.

Natalie slowly turned her head to look at him. Her eyes were wide and glazed, and her skin was alarmingly pale. Her lips cracked open to speak, but before she could, Matt tackled her down to the mud just in time to prevent a monster from taking her head off. She was cold to the touch, he noted worriedly, but he couldn't focus on her now—not with an enemy lurking about, wanting to kill them.

And what a strange enemy it was. The creature looked like some misshapen beast straight out of a nightmare, with slimy black skin, uneven and jagged fangs, and no eyes. Green frills ran all along its sides, and it had enormous dew claws jutting out from each webbed hand-like forearm. It lumbered to a clumsy halt that belied the speed with which it had attacked and slipped into the spring.

Matt shook off his shock, and drew his sword. The hilt of Destruction still felt odd in his grip, but comfortably balanced and humming with power. His pupils slitted as he began tracking the path of the monster under the water, and he lashed out when it emerged, once again heading for Natalie with all the single-mindedness of a beast. This time, it hit the ground in two twitching pieces that quickly fell still.

"Come on, we need to get somewhere more defensible," Matt told Natalie as he pulled her up from kneeling in the now knee-deep water. She silently followed his lead, still with that glazed look, and he shot a worried glance at her. "Natz?"

Her eyes blinked twice before finally focusing on him, though she quickly pulled them away again in shame. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Matt's frown deepened, though his pace quickened as he heard a strange warbling cry rise into the air from the forest. "You have nothing to apologize for."

"I- I haven't been a good friend. You've been looking out for me and trying so hard to readjust, and I've been nothing but a spoiled brat back."

Something in her shaking voice was alarming Matt, and he tightened his grip on her hand in response as they plunged into a narrow cavern that he knew led to near his den. "No, you were justified with your anger. I never did open up to any of you because I was afraid. You all trusted me and I refused to do the same in return. But we're trying to do better, now, right? Sure, we're messing up and stumbling around, but we can figure this out."

"Y-You'll... think of me... won't you?" Natalie asked in a faltering voice.

Matt froze mid-step at that very odd, very final sounding question.

"I always think of you," he swore as he turned to look back at her in the gloom. "Even when you're not right next to me, I'm thinking of you." He caught her as her knees suddenly gave out, and his heart skipped a beat. "What's wrong?!"

Natalie's breathing had gotten very uneven and raspy and she was shaking in his grasp as he lowered them both to sit on the cold stone. His fingers found her pulse and he was alarmed at the rapid, uneven beat her heart was pounding.

"Natalie?" he all but whimpered fearfully. "Come on, this isn't funny. You can sleep back at my den."

A cold hand rose to brush his cheek and he brought his own up to cup and hold it there.

"...I'm sorry..." she whispered.

"Not as sorry as you're going to be if you die here," Matt shot back with tears in his eyes and a lump in his throat. He hauled her up and into his arms, cradling her against his chest with her head on his shoulder, and began sprinting through the remainder of the tunnel. "I'll heal you as soon as we're outside. You're gonna be fine, I promise. Don't do this to me again. Stay with me, Natz."

"I... love... you... Matt... Always... have..."

Tears began to trickle down Matt's cheeks and he let out a choked sob at her rasped confession as he skidded around a corner and saw the off-color light of the outside. He couldn't let her die again. He wanted her there, with him, loving and being loved. But she was dying in his arms from an unknown cause that he hadn't been around to prevent. And then she spoke again, and his cracking heart began to shatter.

"Stupid... I know. You... must... think... I'm ridiculous," Natalie said with a sigh of self-deprecating amusement.

"No, I think you're beautiful," Matt shot back harshly as he finally broke into the light. "The only ridiculous thing about you is that you think I'm going to let you die."

Natalie clung to his sleeve with a pathetic grip when he set her down on the ground, and he gently pulled her hand away to grip it in his own. Her pallor had gotten even worse and she could barely keep her eyelids open. By the way her dull eyes slid around, he assumed she couldn't see and was looking for him. He rested his free hand on her cheek to direct her gaze and leaned in closer, offering a wobbly smile when her expression softened some.

A soft golden glow surrounded her as he went to work with his healing magic, only for it to do nothing to help. His stomach dropped as he realized that what was wrong with her was far beyond his abilities to heal. He could sense her mana working to rapidly unwind itself, corroding the invisible pathways through her body and wreaking havoc in its wake. It dawned on him that she knew what was going on and knew she was doomed.

Well, he still refused to just let her give up.

The dragon let his fangs grow and bit his own tongue and tasted the irony flavor of his own blood flooding his mouth. Without a word, the hand he had on her cheek slid around to cradle the back of her head, and he lifted her up slightly to press his lips to hers. She flinched slightly—either at the sudden contact, or at the taste of blood in her mouth—but quickly relaxed into the kiss. Crimson blood leaked down her cheek as Matt tilted his head to deepen the kiss, letting his bleeding tongue snake into her mouth to rub against her own.

When he pulled away, he had blood on his lips, and he saw the same on her own. More importantly, however, he saw her swallow. She blinked tiredly at him, and was obviously confused and sad, but she still smiled with tears in her eyes.

"Come on," Matt thought desperately with his heart in his throat as he watched her eyes begin to slide shut.

And then it happened. He saw her wince slightly and work her jaw, and her eyes fluttered before opening again while glowing a soft blue. His hand clutched a little tighter still on hers as her back arched and she let out a sharp sound of pain. With a soft, reassuring hush, he ran his free hand over her forehead and through her bangs, and murmured that he was there and that she was going to be fine. At the same time, he was casting his senses out for any more strange creatures, and glancing up at the sky, which was still the odd purple color. It would be bad to disturb her while she was undergoing the change.

Ten minutes later, and Natalie slumped still with a ragged sigh and passed out. Matt lightly bit his lip as he checked her vitals before slumping with relief. Her body and mana had absorbed and mixed with his blood, and her mana had stabilized again. Now he just needed to get her someplace to rest while she recovered and her body adjusted to the changes his blood brought. He imagined that her senses would be sharper, and that she'd probably have fangs, and slitted pupils.

As for any of his other latent dragon abilities, features, and behaviors... He'd have to monitor her to be sure.

Matt let out a sigh and pulled Natalie up and around onto his back and continued for his den. Eerie cries echoed through the trees, but nothing attacked them, and he made good time back to the den. Several corpses littered the open space outside the cave, all just as strange and unknown as the monster he'd slain. By the arrows and holes, he assumed Lance and Anna had taken them out, and by the barrier stretched across the entrance, they'd defended the site against further attacks. All it took to get through was a brief flare of his mana, and the invisible shield dropped to allow them through.

"Anna's..." Matt murmured to himself as he erected a new and more powerful barrier before heading deeper inside. "I didn't think she could use barrier magic... It isn't as good as Lance's, so why...?"

The answer quickly became apparent when he stepped into the hall and saw Anna binding Lance's arm in a sling; the gunner himself was unconscious. A bloody bandage was wrapped around Anna's left arm, and was a dark enough of a red that Matt assumed the wound was still bleeding. Still, it didn't seem to be bothering the ranger that much.

"How's Natz?" Anna asked without looking up.

"...She needs rest, but she should be fine," Matt finally replied after a few seconds of silence. "I don't know what happened to her, but she was in really bad shape."

That made Anna glance up with concern and her eyes widened at the blood on Matt's face and how pale Natalie was in his arms. "I can heal her, if she needs it. And you."

OOOOOO

Natalie caught Matt's arm.

"You can't fight him," she pleaded with wide, desperate eyes. "Even in your largest dragon form, he's twice as big as you! You'll be killed!"

Matt didn't pull his arm away, but neither did he turn back around. Outside of the ravine, the titanic shadow dragon screeched in triumphant as its Stygian flames scorched the land.

Finally, he half turned to cast a grim smile back at Natalie. "Give me some credit: I am a wyrm, you know."

"Have you ever fought something that size?" Lance demanded furiously, though he kept his head bent over his task of stitching the gash on Anna's torso closed. "If dragons get larger as they age, then he has to be at least twice as old as you. That's twice as much experience, twice as much size, twice as much power! You'll be lucky if your ashes even make it to the ground!"

"And nothing any of you can do will scratch him," Matt spat back. "I can't take you with me: you'll fall off my back when I dodge, and I can't be risking safe flying while I fight him. Your weapons won't even come close to breaking his scales and skin, and your magic will be nullified before it can touch him, anyway. We don't have any other options."

"We... could run..." Anna rasped before coughing out a wad of blood. She relaxed back again at Lance's quiet hush.

"To where?" Matt snarled. "The entire world is a hellscape. Where could we run? And even if there is somewhere safe enough to rebuild, dragons always seek out the strongest foes. One way or another, we'll fight. He'll hunt me down as a test, if nothing else."

Natalie violently flinched back, releasing Matt's arm as she was once again smacked across the face with the reminder that everything was her fault. Her hand came to clutch close to her chest, and she bit the inside of her lip, only to be reminded once again of her fangs. The iron-y taste of her blood filled her mouth, and she swallowed it before subconsciously swiping her tongue across the small wounds to seal them.

Her eyes drifted across her friends. Anna lay on the ground with a pale face, shallow breaths, and a pinched expression. Lance knelt over the ranger, tending to her wounds. His expression was blank, but tension showed in his shoulders. He had a smear of dried blood across his face from a shallow score on his forehead that had already clotted. Matt's clothes were singed and tattered, his blade coated in ash, and his free hand clenched in a fist, staring out at the other dragon once more.

"If only I hadn't been such an idiot," Natalie thought in despair. "I'd have the ability to use my magic to heal Anna, I could close the rift. Hell, the rift would never have opened."

Matt smelled Natalie's tears, but for once didn't turn to comfort her. His comfort never seemed to help anyone, anyway, and he might not even be around to do it for much longer. He ignored Natalie's strangled sound of protest and Lance's soft hiss of warning, and stepped out into the open. In a flash of golden light, he assumed his largest form, easily towering over the ravine his friends were hiding in, but much smaller than his foe.

Still, he swallowed his fear and allowed the thrill of a battle that his blood craved to fill the fear's place. With a thundering roar of challenge, he launched himself into the air, prepared to fight to the bloody end.

Natalie sank to her knees in despair as tears coursed down her cheeks. Her eyes screwed shut as Matt made first contact with the massive shadow dragon, and she turned her face away, both in shame and from being unable to watch. Roars of anger, shrieks of pain, and howls of battle filled the air. Her fledgling blood allowed her to know which dragon made which cries, though not what was being said, and she knew most of the pained cries were coming from Matt.

"Come on, Matt," Lance muttered tensely. "Go for the throat..."

With Anna as cared for as possible, all that the gunner could do was watch Matt's battle. The golden dragon was doing an impressive job of holding his own, but it was clear that he was outmatched in both size and power. Agility was on his side, as were his unique shifts in and out of different sized forms to dodge and attack. He scored blow after blow on obsidian hide, and his foe's blood and scales rained down, but he took a blow for every hit he landed. It was a war of attrition that Matt couldn't possible sustain.

With his attention so focused on the battle, Lance never saw Natalie slip away down the opposite end of the ravine. The mage ran as silently as she could to the end of the narrow valley before taking a deep breath. Shaking fingers rose to the clasp of the mana suppressing pendant she'd sworn to wear at all times. Echoes of Matt's battle rang in her ears as she looked up at the goal they'd traveled so far to reach. With a shaky exhale, Natalie stared at the glorious altar to Godcat that towered in the center of the crystal encrusted box canyon.

She stumbled up the marble stone steps, fingers fumbling with the clasp to her pendant. A series of clinks echoed throughout the space as she let the trinket fall and clatter down the steps. The ugly beast that was her mana surged forth, eager to be free at long last. She held it back with an iron will as she reached out to place both hands on the altar that was icy cold and burning hot at the same time.

She'd only just begun to say a silent farewell when a weight tackled her off of the altar.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Lance snarled as he pinned Natalie to the ground with both knees on her back as he roughly clasped her abandoned pendant back around her neck.

Natalie said nothing in reply, and complacently let him roll her over to meet his glare, her own eyes were stolidly determined as he scowled down at her.

"This is my fault," Natalie informed him calmly. "I need to fix it."

"What part of Godcat's warning about the amount of mana required to reactivate her font did you not hear?" Lance hissed. "The drain will kill you."

"I accept that."

Lance hauled her up by her shirt so that their faces were inches apart. "Well I don't; neither does Anna, and Matt certainly doesn't."

"The choice isn't yours to make," Natalie shot back firmly as she brought a hand up to curl around his wrist, unapologetically digging her claws into his skin to make him let go.

Despite the pain, Lance refused to let her go. His words became more pleading. "Don't you realize what you'll do to him? He needs you just as much as he needs air! He'll irreparably break if you commit ritual suicide!"

Natalie's gaze shuttered some more. "It won't matter if that dragon out there kills him first. I don't even know why he keeps me around. What have I done for him these last few years? What have I done for any of you? Every path I take, every method I try, I make things worse. You all would be better off without me."

Lance let out a low snarl and his grip tightened as he shook her slightly. "If you would open your fucking eyes and look, you'd know why he keeps you around! You are his entire world. He keeps trying to make everything better for you. He's out there fighting a beast that could easily kill him because he wants to defend you. He loves you, you thrice-damned idiot, and if you do what you're trying to do, then he will spend the rest of his life trying to follow you. Do you want him dead?"

"No," Natalie whispered.

"You sure? Because you seem to be doing a bang up job of killing him yourself!"

"I don't!" Natalie shouted, removing her hand from his wrist to grip his shirt like he had hers. She barely registered the shock in his eyes as she forced him off her to stand up, hauling him up with strength she'd never known she had. "I have never wanted Matt dead! I've never wanted him to get hurt! I've never wanted to hurt him! But you know what? I'm not perfect! I'm an irrational mess, just like every other breathing creature on this gods-forsaken planet! I can only do what anyone can do, and that's try to help! Is my solution perfect? No. Do I expect you to understand it? No. Do I think you have any right to stop me, to talk down at me like I'm stupid? No! I've heard you mutter to Anna and Matt about how much of a liability I am. I've seen you watching me, making sure I don't try to use my magic. I know you don't trust me anymore. Well, you know what? I don't care. You aren't strong enough to stop me, Lance. You never were, and you never will be."

Lance's throat was dry as he stared back at Natalie, taking in her glowing eyes with the slitted pupils, the way her fangs had elongated and steam hissed between them. And her words were so caustic, so desperate, and so damning, that he wasn't entirely sure she was still sane. Maybe stress and grief had finally snapped something in her mind.

Whatever the reason, she was right that he couldn't stop her. But he had to try, for Matt's sake.

"Maybe I can't stop you from being an idiot," he finally murmured. "Maybe you're too strong for me to stop. Maybe I shouldn't even try to stop you, just to prove that I was right to keep an eye on you. Maybe it doesn't matter."

Natalie's eyes narrowed as she willingly released him to let him step back. His eyes had gone blank they way they always did just before he fought a tough opponent.

"Whether I can or can't, I'm going to try," Lance told her as he drew his gunblade. "You're making a terrible mistake, and I think, deep down, you know it. That's why you're so mad and desperate: because you're helpless, and it frustrates you."

OOOOOO

Matt staggered into the cavern, leaning heavily on Anna each step of the way, even though the ranger was hardly any better off. Blood steadily ran from numerous deep wounds in his chest and abdomen, and his chin was stained crimson from coughing on blood. Still, he refused to stop moving and rest so that his wounds could recover. He'd sensed Natalie's magic as well as Lance's, on a lesser scale; he needed to get to them, to protect them.

What he found caused him to freeze as despair welled in his chest. He barely felt Anna move from his side, leaving him to sink to the floor, as she raced as fast as her wounded body would allow to where Lance lay. The gunner was crumpled on the ground on his side, half curled in a fetal position. Around him were scorch marks and chips of jagged ice. His clothes had been badly burned and torn, and his gunblade lay in two pieces not far from his broken arm.

Past the fallen gunner was Natalie, slumped on top of the crystal altar to Godcat, which shimmered with fresh mana. The one arm he could see was heavily marked with mana burns. No one needed to explain what had happened for him to know. Natalie had sacrificed her life to reawaken Godcat's largest font. And if the battle-scarred area and Lance's broken form were anything to go by, the gunner had tried and failed to stop her.

Anna had her hands pressed to Lance's burned chest and was focusing what was left of her healing magic into his body. He was still breathing, but it rasped and faltered unevenly. He didn't even flinch when her tears dripped to land on open wounds on his skin, even though the salty liquid had to sting. She clumsily wiped her cheeks on her shoulders, and stubbornly kept channeling her magic despite the pounding headache forming behind her eyes.

"Ann... a...?"

The weak rasp caused Anna to start and open her eyes, unable to remember when they had shut. Dazed crimson met her own, bright with pain and glazed with exhaustion.

"Moron," Anna growled through a sob, though there was no real heat behind it. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"I... wasn't...?" Lance replied with a pathetic attempt at a smirk that quickly morphed into a grimace as he breathed in too deeply and stretched his healing wounds. Eventually, his tight expression relaxed a little, and his eyes rolled to the side. "Is... Matt... here?"

Anna glanced over her shoulder at where Matt had limped over to Natalie's body and was holding it close to his chest. "Yeah... He's with-" her voice broke and she paused to clear her throat. "He's alive."

Lance's eyes flickered with a despairing shadow before shutting. "Natz... did it... huh?"

"She's gone," Anna quietly confirmed. She pulled her hands away from Lance's chest, having sealed the worst of the wounds and mended most of the burning. "There's going to be some scarring, I think. I'm sorry."

"Better than dead," Lance sighed with his eyes still closed. He was silent for a few seconds before slowly and carefully moving his arm to begin sitting up.

"Hey, hey, stay still. You're still really hurt," Anna urged worriedly. She gently pressed a hand to a patch of clear skin on his shoulder to force him to lie back down.

Lance merely gripped her wrist and stubbornly said, "Matt needs us."

Anna couldn't argue with that. Instead, she resignedly shifted her arm around Lance's shoulders to help lever him up and hold him steady as he sucked in a sharp, pained breath. She didn't say anything as he fought through the pain to stand up with her help and merely braced herself under his good arm to act as his crutch as he began limping towards Matt.

The dragon had Natalie clutched to his chest with his face buried in her hair. He was deathly still and silent, not trembling, and not sobbing, but his entire being emanated an aura of despair and anguish. Lance exchanged a somber look with Anna before pulling away to sit not far from the grieving dragon. Several long moments passed in silence.

"I'm sorry I couldn't stop her."

Matt shook his head. "It wasn't your fault, Lance. If it was what she wanted, then no one could have stopped her. But thank you for trying, and I'm... I'm sorry she hurt you so badly. I just... wish she'd told me, you know? Maybe... Maybe if I'd talked to her more... loved her more... she wouldn't have left me here. Maybe I would have been able to say goodbye." His shaky, lost voice broke in a shuddering breath that was nearly a sob, and he tenderly ran a hand over her orange hair and down her back as though he could wake her up, but didn't want to disturb her. "If only I'd stayed, hadn't gone to fight that dragon..."

Anna shook her head with tears on her cheeks. "I'm not sure any of us could have changed her mind. I think she had been planning this for weeks."

Matt finally drew back to lay Natalie down with immense care. His shoulders were slumped, and his eyes red, though his face was dry. "She wasn't happy. Maybe she is, now. I hope she is."

Each of them were silent for a long, long time. Eventually, Matt pulled his dull eyes away from Natalie's pale face and looked at Lance and Anna.

"How're you feeling?"

Lance stiffly shrugged his good shoulder. "About as good as I look, I'm sure, but nothing that won't heal with time." He hesitated before nodding slightly at Natalie's body. "How do you want to bury her?"

Matt's mouth tightened, and he visibly swallowed before whispering, "I don't know what she would have wanted. Dragons and heroes are traditionally cremated, but her family has a cemetery north of Goldenbrick. She may have wanted to be buried there with her kin, if it's still standing."

Anna shook her head. "No. She told me once that her family had thrown her out at a young age, and she'd always resented them for it." Her voice fell some as she added, "We were her real family, she said: we took her in, we kept her company, and we watched out for her. Maybe we failed in the end, but if cremation is what we would want, then cremation is what she would have wanted."

"Cremation it is, then," Lance agreed quietly.

And so Matt slowly and stiffly retrieved Natalie's Crystal Staff from where it lay discarded at the foot of the altar stairwell and placed it beside Natalie. Anna had numbly adjusted the mage's arms to be resting over her stomach, and loosely brushed the mage's hair from her face. She quickly turned away before she could break down into tears, and retreated to where Lance had been propped against a fallen pillar. The gunner silently raised an arm in an offer of comfort that Anna sank into without a sound. Both watched as Matt stood over Natalie one last time before kneeling down. He bent over to press a tender kiss to her forehead.

"See you later... Natz," he breathed. His voice fell even further so that Lance and Anna couldn't hear and he added, "I loved you. I wish we'd had more time. I wish I could have given you the life you really deserved. You were, without a doubt, the greatest treasure of my entire life, but I... I hope you're happier, now."

With that, he stood back and drew in a deep breath, ready to breath fire over Natalie's corpse. And for a long moment, the breath caught in his chest as a pang of sorrow so deep and strong threatened to choke him. Natalie was dead. Again. Only this time there was no second chance for her. Bitter anguish rose in his throat to finally allow the tears to flow, and he let out the flames at last, engulfing Natalie in golden fire.

Anna let out a sob and buried her face in Lance's shoulder. Lance shut his eyes to the sight and rested his cheek against Anna's head as he tightened his grip around her shoulders. Matt took several steps back, numbly watching the flames, and only grateful that they were too bright to let him see Natalie's beautiful face blacken into ash.

The next thing he knew, he was waking up back at his den. Silk sheets had been drawn up to his chin, and a glass of water sat beside his bed. For a few moments, he naïvely thought that maybe it had all just been a horrible, extended nightmare. Then he saw Lance sleeping against the wall, one arm bandaged and in a sling with a blanket tucked around his shoulders and a low work bench bearing the pieces of his gunblade sitting nearby. Matt shut his eyes and curled up on his side, burying his head under the sheets to hide from the truth.

"You're awake."

Anna's soft voice sounded, and Matt grunted noncommittally, but didn't emerge. Several minutes passed in utterly silence broken only by Lance's sleeping breathing.

"How long have I been out?"

Anna shook her head, even though Matt couldn't see. "About a week. Godcat warped us here."

"I see. How's Lance doing?"

The dragon's voice was unnaturally flat and uncaring.

"Better, but it'll be a month or so before his arm is fully healed. Sooner, if I can get my healing magic up to snuff and he quits stressing his body. There's a pretty impressive scar across his chest, now, too." Anna paused for a moment before adding, "Godcat offered to heal him, but he refused. He's... pretty furious that she didn't intervene with... He didn't want her 'pity heals.'"

"Sounds like Lance."

Another period of silence passed before Anna spoke again.

"Are you hungry?"

"No."

"Thirsty? I know dragons don't need food and water as often, but-"

"I'm fine, Anna."

Anna's eyes hardened and she quietly refuted, "No you're not. Don't lie to me."

"I'm as fine as I can be, then. Now leave me alone."

Anna opened her mouth to argue, but ultimately closed it again without a word.

More silence, though this time with the occasionally rustle of paper.

"I need some time alone."

Anna looked up from the healing tome she'd been studying from over the past few days. "I don't think being alone is the best remedy," she cautiously warned.

"I don't care. I want to be alone. Once Lance's arm is healed, I want you both gone."

Anna's calm mask cracked a little. "You don't want to see us anymore?"

"No, I don't. I don't want to see anything, anymore. Not for a long time, anyway."

"What if we want to see you?" Anna pressed somewhat heatedly. "Lance has been in here every day, waiting for you to wake up. We're all he has! I know you're hurting from Nata-"

"Don't," Matt snarled, cutting Anna off, "say her name. You have no idea how I'm feeling—not really—so don't pretend otherwise. And don't use my grief to try and guilt me. For once, I'm going to be selfish, and to hell with everything and everyone else."

Anna bit back her next protest. "Fine," she whispered with tears in her eyes. "We'll go. But when you finally pull your head out of your ass, we'll be waiting, you hear me?"

Matt didn't reply. Instead, he kept his eyes screwed shut as he listened to Anna move and wake Lance, and their whispered discussion and Lance's upset protest before both headed out of the room.

They were both gone when he finally emerged four days later, and by the light coating of dust and stale scent, they'd left days ago. Matt shrugged darkly to himself and turned away from the sunlight outside his den. He didn't care that the sky was back to normal, and he didn't care that he'd chased off his last friends. Nothing mattered anymore. Natalie, his chosen and beloved queen, was dead by her own hand without ever knowing how much he'd loved her, and she'd taken part of him with her. Not even a summons from Godcat could get him to do anything, now.

OOOOOO

Miles, upon miles, upon miles away, an entombed altar deep beneath the earth of Goldenbrick was pulsing with a gentle light. Mysterious white stone carved with ancient runes rose high from an obsidian base, pointing towards an arched ceiling jagged with stalactites. Ancient stories in a tongue long since forgotten were scrawled all along the monolith alongside raised reliefs of ancient cities and fearsome cats. Slinking shapes lurked in the shadows, hungrily eyeing the glowing monument, but unwilling to step into its glowing aura. A brilliant flash scattered them, and hisses rang out before fading into silence.

When the light faded back to the former glow, a slender shape had appeared at the base of the altar. A quiet groan echoed eerily before pale arms began shakily pushing a young woman off the frigid obsidian. Long hair cascaded over pale shoulders and was tucked behind a faintly pointed ear before the slender figure flicked one wrist and a ball of glowing light appeared over a palm. She flinched slightly in surprise, as though not sure where the light had come from, but quickly recovered. The brighter glow illuminated brilliant orange hair, and clear, grey eyes that blinked about the space in dazed confusion as the young woman staggered to her feet. There were no clothes on her body, but she didn't seem to notice as she nervously took a step forwards.

"Wh-where...?"

Her uncertain voice echoed back to her, and her shoulders timidly hunched a little before straightening. With a final glance around, the woman stepped down from the altar, her bare feet nearly silent on the stone. The ball of light cast eerie shadows on the various stones and statues she passed, and her eyes nervously glanced about, certain that she was being watched, but not from where. Nothing attacked her as she passed under a once-grand archway formed of the intertwined tails of two massive cat statues that towered well above her head and into a tunnel. Something about the statues was familiar and made her uneasy, but she didn't know why. A damp, chill wind blowing down the tunnel pushed the troublesome thought from her head and she shivered while hugging the arm not sustaining her light closer to her body, tucking the limb under her breasts.

The short passage soon opened up again into what looked like a massive, abandoned city. Everything was in ruins, now, but the woman imagined that it must've been grand, once. Soaring arches still stretched between magnificent spires in some places, while the crumbled remains of others were scattered across the ground in destroyed chunks. The streets, though cracked and broken up in many places, were made of finely smoothed cobblestone laid out in carefully planned paths that wound between the many buildings. Long-dried canal beds were filled with rubble or dirt, and rusted grates for sewer entrances stood out like barred cell entrances. A number of the largest buildings sported enormous carved sigils on their fronts of everything ranging from twisting trees to crossed swords. She wondered what the symbols were for. To identify buildings, or perhaps prominent families had once lived in them, or maybe the carvings were simply for decoration and didn't mean anything?

"Am I the only one here?" the woman wondered aloud as she walked between the buildings and stared around.

Her voice was low, as though she thought that to speak loudly would desecrate the somber sanctity of the ruined city. Still, her words echoed off the stone, quickly multiplying and soon sounding as though there were hundreds of people asking if they were the only ones there. The woman shivered at the eerie effect, but quickly gasped as everything around her seemed to abruptly change.

No longer was she striding through the abandoned streets of a forgotten underground ruin. Now, the sun shone warmly down on bustling crowds. Vendors shaded underneath colorful canopies lined the edges of the streets, calling out specialties and sales over the cacophony of the crowd, trying to entice the many passersby to come and browse their wares. Crystal waters flowed through previously dry channels, and the roofs and shutters of magnificent buildings gleamed with bright paint in the afternoon sun. Brilliant tapestries fluttered in a pleasant sea wind, and the woman could hear the crying of seabirds.

Perhaps stranger than any of that was that an enormous number of the crowd wasn't human. Sure, there were a fair number of ordinary humans, but the majority were certainly not human. The woman gaped at the sight of a group of several large, cat-like creatures bounded past, chasing down a scruffier cat with a bag of stolen goods in tow. All of them had four legs. Other, equally strange, creatures strode about in colorful robes of flowing fabric. They were tall, and humanoid in shape, but with pricked ears like a cat's, and entirely furred faces. Their paws were unusual mixtures of human hands and cat-like paws with sharp nails, furred backs, and padded palms. Their feet were bare, but once again a strange mixture of cat and human, bearing animal-like joints, but with the ability to provide upright support. Cat tails flicked behind each creature, or out from underneath skirts. Many had gold earrings and bangles looped around their arms and even on their tails.

"Maybe I fell asleep and am dreaming," the woman murmured uneasily as she backed up in confusion.

She stared at another passing cat-human, and found her eyes drawn to the female's garb. It was light-weight and flowing, but surely it had to be warmer than nothing at all? In fact, she didn't see a single person not wearing clothes—even the four-legged guard-cat-creatures had armor—and she suddenly glanced down at her nude self somewhat self-consciously. None of the crowd seemed to have noticed her, so maybe it was okay?

Then a group of children raced straight through her, and she jumped a foot in the air.

"G-Ghosts?" the woman squeaked as the blood rushed from her face. She calmed some as she looked around again and shook her head slightly. "...Or maybe an illusion?"

"There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you!"

The woman jumped again at the voice from right behind her. She spun around to see a tall, blond man with a beaming smile directed straight at her. He wore a simple tunic made of dark gray and black cloth, and an impressive sword with a gleaming golden hilt was slung across his back The corners of his clear sapphire eyes were crinkled with happiness and mischief, and the expression at once caused her heart to race and every muscle in her body to relax. She knew this man, somehow. He was a figure of safety.

The thought caused a shooting pain to stab behind her eyes, and she winced as she brought a hand to her head. Strangely, the action didn't cause the man to pause. If anything, his smile widened, and the woman jumped yet again as a different person bounded through her from behind to throw themselves into the man's arms. It was a young woman, dressed in a similar tunic to the man, with a short sword sheathed at her hip. She had short, black hair held off of her face by a thin, golden circlet.

A strange ache, stronger than her headache, formed in the woman's heart as she watched the man bend down to press a sweet kiss to the newcomer's lips. She turned away from the sight without quite knowing why their kiss bothered her so much, and found herself staring at a once again dark, desolate, and abandoned street. Gone were the crowds and stalls, the warm sunshine was once again blocked by the dark stone ceiling of the cavern, and the couple from the vision had vanished as well.

"What is going on?" the woman wondered uneasily, afraid to speak out loud in case it summoned the vision back.

With a heavy swallow, she set out once more, carefully stepping over and around the stone chips and shards of ruined buildings while searching for any kind of life besides herself, or an exit. As she walked, she wondered if maybe the vision she'd seen was an image from the past. Had this city really once been above ground? Why had it sunk? Who had that man been? She was relatively sure she'd never before seen anything from the vision aside from him, but she couldn't even recall him well enough to be sure she really knew him. Even now, the only part of the man that she could clearly remember were his sapphire blue eyes. Yet looking at him had made her feel so safe and happy...

But what if—assuming the vision had, indeed, been a vision of the past—he was long dead? The dereliction of the buildings surrounding her couldn't have happened overnight, after all; the ruins had to have been as such for a very long time for all of the wooden shutters and stalls that she'd seen to be rotted completely away. But then, how had she gotten here, and how was she still alive? ...Or was she actually dead—merely a specter wandering the long-dead streets of her home in life?

The thought caused her to shiver again, and she found herself pressing one hand against the stone of the next building to be sure she wouldn't go through it. A thick coating of dust came off with her hand, but she thankfully didn't slip through the solid stone.

"Probably not dead, then," she nervously giggled to herself.

The giggle echoed just as earlier, and she found herself covering her ears to try and block the noise out, beyond creeped out by the sound of hundreds of giggles coming from all directions. After a few moments, she lowered her hands and was relieved to hear nothing once again and that she hadn't been pulled into a new vision.

Then she heard a distant howl echo through the streets, and her heart leapt into her throat. Soon, the sound of rapid footsteps coupled with scratching came echoing towards her, and she found herself twisting and running in what she thought might be the opposite way from the noise. Whatever had made that cry had definitely not been human, and she didn't think she wanted to meet it. Two more howls rose up, and her panting breaths caught in a sob of fear, and she ducked off of the street and into a nearby building to hide.

Ruined metal beams and shards of pottery and glass littered the floor inside, glittering in her magical light, and she picked her way carefully though the mess, heading for the half crumbled staircase behind a collapsed rusted gate on the far side of the room. Once she'd reached the stairs, she extinguished her light, and felt her way up the stone, and stumbled along the next floor with one hand on the wall to guide her until it met a corner. There, she huddled down with her heart pounding in her chest and listened to the muffled cries from outside.

In the next instant, she was blinded by bright light, and found herself trapped in another vision. With a whimper muffled by her hand, the woman stared out at a pristine room filled with carefully arranged chests and shelves while the walls were nearly covered in metal racks bearing weapons of all kinds from bows to swords, to staves. It was an armory room of some kind, she realized—or, at least, it had been, once. Two of the strange cat-people stood on either side of the stairwell she'd climbed with their backs to her and gleaming silvery spears in their hands. They wore armor made of the same silvery metal, but no helms, leaving their black furred heads exposed with their ears pricked upright. Light glinted off of their fur and armor, coming from a number of glowing crystals set in the ceiling.

The woman behind them managed to pull her eyes away in favor of examining the weapons in the room, again. Her hope was that maybe she'd spy something that might have survived well enough to be used. She glazed over the maces and mauls: their wooden handles would never have survived; the same was true for the bows, and she instinctively doubted that she could use a bow, anyway. Perhaps the swords, she mused, would be her best bet. Even a blunt, rusted stick would be better than her bare hands, but did she have the strength to properly swing one?

Then her eyes fell on a number of silvery staves leaning up against the wall in the far corner, and she had a feeling of déjà vu. Those were something she just might be able to use, and if they were made of metal, then maybe they would still be salvageable.

Then the vision faded, and she jerked in surprise as she found herself staring at pitch blackness. Everything was dead silent once more, and she vowed to keep it that way as she pushed herself off of the floor. No more noise out of her. Something was indeed alive down here with her, and they were not friendly. With that thought in mind, she flicked her wrist again and the ball of light reappeared, illuminating the ruined storeroom. To her surprise, a number of chests and shelves had survived the test of time, though in pathetic condition. Hinges had rusted off, and bugs had chewed holes through several of them. The shelves had crumbled into useless piles of splinters, and she could see the rusted, spiked heads of the maces she'd seen in the vision resting in the splinters.

With a shake of her head, she stepped forwards and began sifting through the piles of wood. Most pieces all but disintegrated as soon as she touched them, releasing the sickly sweet smell of rot, and she wrinkled her nose as she dug. After several minutes, she had managed to extract two broken short swords, the useless hilt of a broadsword, a rusted spear head, three left boots, and a pile of gleaming golden coins that had fallen out of a deteriorated leather satchel. The woman sighed and moved on to the next pile.

This one yielded slightly better rewards. She'd found an amulet that hummed with an unusual energy, and a rusted metal box that held a well-preserved dagger made of gleaming crystal. The hinges had protested moving with an ugly screech, and she'd frozen as her ears strained to hear if the noise had attracted unwanted attention. When all had remained silent, she withdrew the dagger and set it in the growing pile of potentially useful things, including the coins she'd found earlier, the amulet, and a fine chain belt made out of the same silvery material that the guards in her vision had worn.

The search took nearly two hours, due to the fact that she hadn't been able to sustain her light source without using her right hand until she'd nearly finished searching, but by the end, the woman was beaming. She'd found three silvery staves in nearly perfect condition under a moth-eaten tapestry that had fallen apart as soon as she'd pulled on it. Each one hummed in the same way the amulet had, and she realized they must be enchanted. How she knew that was beyond her, however, and she didn't want to think on it too much—her head always hurt when she tried to pull up anything useful from her memory.

Aside from the staves, crystal dagger, amulet, and coins, she'd come away with a healthy haul. Four enchanted bangles made of gold had been added to the pile, alongside a short sword made of the same metal as the staves—mythril, her brain suddenly informed her: the metal was mythril. She'd also found more gold, and some curious red crystals that were warm to the touch.

Finally, her greatest prize aside from the staves was a long robe-like garb, like those the cat-people in her vision of the market had worn. It was made out of a light, airy material that had been enchanted and seemed impervious to decay. It had been folded inside one of the last trunks she'd searched, complete with a sash made of the same material that had fluttered to the floor when she'd pulled the robe free.

The woman held up the robe with a critical eye. It was way too long for her, but was warmer than bare skin. The fabric had been dyed a rich blue, though the sash was golden colored, and it felt delightfully soft under her fingers. Now she simply needed some way to shorten it so that she wouldn't trip...

After a few moments of consideration, she knelt on the floor and spread the robe out. Then, she took her crystal dagger, eyeballed how short the clothing needed to be, and cut nearly a foot off of the bottom. It took a surprisingly large amount of effort to cut, despite its light and thin quality, but eventually she stood up with a triumphant smile, and pulled the robe up once more. Then came the challenge of fumbling with the multiple laces on the inside that held it shut. It took a few minutes of trying and redoing dressing, but she eventually figured out the strange design well enough that it wouldn't slip off, and double knotted the sash around her hips to keep it securely closed.

Now all that was left to consider was how to carry everything else. The answer, she mused thoughtfully, lay in the fairly large piece of fabric she'd shorn off the robe. And so she spent nearly a half an hour carefully poking small holes in the edge of half of the fabric she'd cut off and weaving the fine chain she had found through them. The end result was a crude drawstring bag large enough to carry her gold and the warmth crystals with plenty of room for anything else small that she happened to find. The ends of the chain were long enough to tie to her sash at her hip, and she did so with a proud smile.

"Now then," she thought as she turned a critical eye on the weapons. "I can't carry all of these..."

In the end, she opted to leave two of the staves behind, and tucked the dagger and short sword into the sash at the opposite hip of her bag. At first, she'd feared the sword and dagger would cut the sash, but it turned out that to cut the fabric required more force and sawing than she was applying, and she wondered if maybe that was on purpose. The material was certainly stronger than anything so light and thin had any right of being. That gave her a brilliant idea.

Soon, she'd tied two strips of the fabric around each of her feet to protect them from debris and glass shards, like were downstairs. Her toes stuck out, but her heels and arches were well protected. It was warmer than walking on the bare, cold stone, too.

"Just this tiny strip left," the woman mused as she brushed a few errant strands of hair out of her eyes for what seemed like the hundredth time since waking up. With a grin, she used the final strip to tie her hair back from her face. "Who knew one scrap fabric could be so useful?"

Feeling a lot more prepared and confident, she gripped her chosen staff in hand and set off back down the stairs. Already, her mind whirled with confusing images of fire and ice leaping before her, all under her command, and she decided that perhaps she was a spell caster. It made sense, given her ball of light and recognition of staves.

The streets were as empty as before, but this time, there were claw marks on the frames of several of the doors that she was relatively sure hadn't been there before. With a swallow and a prayer that she wouldn't get caught up in another vision at an inconvenient time, the woman set off down the street. She would reach the end of the city, then circle around the edge. There had to be an exit somewhere, after all.

She hadn't gone more than three alleys when a shape lunged at her from a second story window.

The woman barely withheld the instinctive shriek that rose in her throat, and she swung her new staff like a club. Wrong, her mind scolded before she even connected, and even though her attacker had been knocked to the side and into a doorway before she could even really see what it had been. A few sparkles had briefly glittered in the air. Magic, she dryly reminded herself, wasn't about brute strength: it was about wit and willpower, and eliminating her foes. The irony of belatedly knowing more than she could readily recall, and of being her own teacher weren't lost on her.

Those thoughts soon fled from her head as her attacker came back out with a rattling growl that raised the hairs on the back of her neck. She found herself staring at a walking skeleton. Several rib bones were missing from its chest, and it's lower jaw was gone entirely. Sharp fangs still hung from the upper jaw, but were scorched black, and empty sockets seemed to glare at her. Though she didn't know it, the light magic sent off by her smacking the skeleton had knocked its jaw clear off.

"Oh, boy," the mage mumbled.

She ducked to the side to dodge the skeleton as it lunged at her with a howl—the same one she'd heard earlier. It landed on all fours, twisted nimbly around, and lunged back at her with bony fingers and claws outstretched. The mage pointed her staff at the skeleton, but all that happened was a few useless sparkles glimmered from the tip. The sparkles caused a few blackened marks to appear on the skeleton's skull, and while it let out a pained shriek and jerked aside, it didn't stop it. If anything, the undead seemed to grow more furious, and it leapt again.

This time, the mage dove to the floor under the attack, rolled onto her back, and brought the staff up and around across the skeleton's midsection. Whether the staff was an effective blunt weapon or not, smacking the skeleton had worked earlier, and if the glimmers of light were any indication, then it could cause damage. And sure enough, the head of the staff smashed straight through the undead's spine, disintegrating the vertebrae, and causing it to land in two pieces. The top half kept moving, clawing itself around to try and attack her once more, but the bottom half entirely broke apart into a pile of inanimate bones.

The mage pushed herself to her feet, and brought her staff down on the skeleton's skull, destroying it and whatever evil force kept the bones moving. Silence fell, apart from her panting breaths, and she stared down at the pile of bones. She'd killed it, with a healthy dose of luck and chance, but it had been tenacious, and she was certain that she had heard more than one cry, earlier. If there were many shambling undead wandering the city, then she needed to leave now. Knowing she could cast spells clearly wasn't enough to actually cast them, and she didn't want to sit around to try and figure it out in a place where the dead walked and sought for her to join them.

In fact, she realized that the fight had caused a lot of noise, and she needed to move before others came to investigate. With that thought in mind, she set off at a jog down the alley, this time carefully and watching listening for more attackers. The silence of the city was oppressive, and the shadows seemed to be filled with moving shapes. It didn't take long before the palm gripping her staff had become slick with sweat from tension and nerves, and she shifted the staff to her other hand to wipe the sweat off on her thigh.

It seemed like an eternity of empty, twisting alleys before she finally came across something different. A large empty space—the town square, she mused—stretched out before her. A half-melted statue sat in the center, surrounded by ruined garden boxes.

After a cautious scan of the area and attaching alleys, the mage stepped into the open to curiously examine the statue. It was difficult to be certain what the subject had once been, but she thought that perhaps it had been of a cat, what with the one claw and the long shape that might have been a tail. It made sense, given what her visions had shown her of the city's inhabitants.

She reached out to touch the smoothed edge of the melted stone, and wondered how it had been melted. It had to have been an intentional destruction, because nothing else in the area had been melted. Perhaps it had been a symbolic show of dominance from an invading force? That would line up with the overall state of ruin that most of the buildings were in.

Suddenly, everything was on fire. The colorful roofs she had marveled at in an earlier vision had become great torches, bodies littered the streets of cats, cat-people, and humans, and she could hear the distant sounds of battle. Before her stood the statue, untouched and impressive. It depicted a muscular man holding a spear with a large cat standing at his side, fangs bared menacingly. It was, frankly, a rather terrifying sculpture, but it had a number of bouquets placed at its base, so she figured it was fairly well-liked by the inhabitants.

Not that any of the said inhabitants were there now. The woman looked up as a distant explosion illuminated the plumes of smoke billowing above the besieged city. A battalion of cats wearing full armor and wielding floating swords and shields came pouring into the square alongside humans with regular armaments. On the opposite side, cat-people formed a ragged defense of the largest street, down which she could see an impressive domed structure. The street had been where she'd come from, and she wondered if perhaps the temple—for it could be nothing else—had been where she'd woken up.

The cat-people looked exhausted and battered, and were greatly outnumbered, but they stood their ground with grim defiance. Growls and hisses rumbled in the air before exploding into yowls and screeches. Natalie covered her mouth with wide eyes, unable to look away as she watched the cats and humans brutally slaughter the defenders. They had all been living alongside each other, so what had happened to cause this massacre?

She didn't get long to wonder before a black shape came exploding into the fray. A pure black cat with red eyes and pulsing with power in a red aura had descended into the fray as the last cat-people desperately fended for their lives. The entire battle froze, and Natalie saw a collective shiver run through the crowd. The new cat was smaller than all the rest, and was built like a four legged cat, but stood on its hind legs. Its tail lashed as it let out a hair-raising yowl. Abruptly, all the attackers collapsed, and the woman was shocked to realize that they had died in an instant due to whatever the black cat had done. Only three battered cat people remained standing, and all of them sank into low bows with purred praises in their strange meowing tongue.

"A god-cat?" she wondered in awe.

There was nothing else the creature could be. No mere mortal could simply cast an entire army into death. She watched the god raise one paw at the statue and allow black flames to melt it into the unrecognizable pile of slag it was now. The final image she saw was of a glimpse of a gleaming golden shape come soaring over the square to unleash a storm of fire on a cluster of buildings with a thundering roar that was answered by a second roar. Then the flames, the worshippers, the god, and the dragons vanished, and everything returned to the dark gloom of reality.

With a shake of her head, the woman cast an uneasy glance at the melted statue, suddenly wondering if the city had been cursed by the god. How else could a formerly prosperous city on the coast be cast into the earth to be haunted by the dead? She hoped the god was not lurking about now to curse her to join the city.

A now-familiar screech sounded from behind the mage, and she whipped around with a gasp. Three skeletons were bounding towards her, their cries echoing about the city and being answered by skeletons in different areas. The woman swallowed against the tight knot of fear in her throat, and berated herself for getting distracted by a stupid statue when she should have been practicing her magic.

Well it was too late now, and the skeletons were upon her. She slammed one across the side of the skull with her staff, knocking it clean off of the bony shoulders and causing the skeleton to collapse. The magic sustaining them must be centered in their heads, she realized as she ducked under a set of claws coming at her face. A few strands of hair were ripped out, and she hissed as she tugged her dagger free from her waist with her left hand and clumsily drove it up into the attacker's jaw. A split second later, and she let go of the dagger with a cry of surprise as silver flames engulfed the undead and burned it to ash with a high shriek of dismay.

A heavy shape slammed into the stunned mage, yanking her out of her shock, and she let out a cry of pain as chipped fangs dug into her forearm. A second later, and a different pain flared from her ankle, and she jerked her eyes down to see the skull she'd smacked off earlier had rolled back into the fray to bite at her unprotected leg. With gritted teeth, she ripped her arm free, splattering a few drops of blood across the stone ground. At the same time, she jerked her leg up and away from the skull in the ground, and while that sent her tumbling from a loss of balance, it also sent the skull flying.

The woman rolled a short distance away and came up in a crouch to draw the short sword, having abandoned the staff in favor of dodging. Just firming the dusty hilt in her grip told her that she had no experience, current or forgotten, in wielding blades. Luckily, her foes were few and stupid enough that a clumsy slash and a stab were enough to shear through their brittle bones. Two cracked and bloody skulls fell still on the stone ground, their magic broken.

With the battle won, the woman swiftly gathered up her dropped weapons, tucked them away, and took off down the opposite street she'd come from. No more touching anything, no more questioning about the city. She wanted out of the ruins and to a place not filled with undead. Blood ran down her arm from where she'd been bitten, staining the shaft of her staff, and every step left a single bloody footprint from her wounded leg. Luckily, adrenaline still pumped through her veins, and she felt next to no pain from the injuries, though she knew she would have to see to them pretty soon.

Behind her, the echoing shrieks of more skeletons now filled the air, telling her they knew there was an intruder lurking about for them to find. Perhaps more alarming was that she was also hearing a rumbling so low it felt more like a tremor through the ground. She could only hope whatever was making that sound was not something she would have to face down. There was no way she was ready to fight something large and dangerous; she counted it to be a miracle that she'd made it this far without getting killed.

She had no idea how much time had passed before she slowed to a panting stop at a large wall. The bite mark on her arm had clotted some time back, though the one in her leg still steadily oozed blood, and she saw a splotchy red trail down the street leading straight to where she stood. For a moment, she fearfully wondered if the undead were intelligent enough to follow the trail of blood she'd left, but she quickly pushed that thought aside. They were faster than her by far, which meant that if they'd been following the blood, then they would have caught up to her already.

With that hopeful—if somewhat baseless—conclusion, she turned her eyes back to the wall. It was enormous, reaching several lengths above her head, but large sections had collapsed into mounds of rubble. Whether the destruction was from the battle she'd seen in her most recent vision, from the city being sunk into the ground, or from natural decay over time, she didn't know, but it offered her a way to climb out.

And so she forced her tired legs to move and began the slow, careful clamber up the chunks of stone. It was dangerous work since the edges were often sharp, and the stones unsteady. More than once, she'd had to make a desperate scramble as her footing crumbled out from under her. At one point, her handhold had broken and she'd fallen a few feet, resulting in a large bruise on her lower back and right thigh.

By the end of the climb, she was exhausted, sweaty, her fingertips were bloody, and her entire body was sore. She took a few moments to simply lie on her back, staring up at the dark stone ceiling. The cries of the skeletons had faded into silence, and the ominous rumbling had vanished. Despite that, she felt even more uneasy. Her muscles remained tensed for combat, even reclined as she was, her heart thudded with anticipation, and she found herself listening more intently than ever—so intently that, for a few moments, she thought her heartbeat were thudding footsteps.

"I need to get out of here," she thought as she finally worked her breathing under control and stood up. "Something is coming, and I don't want to meet it—not if I can avoid it."

Unfortunately for her, the chance to escape had already passed. With an earsplitting crash, made all the louder for the silence, and a rumbling growl so strong and close she felt it in her bones, the stone beneath her feet crumbled into nothing, sending her free falling to land and tumble down a staircase hidden in the wall. The woman cried out in shock and pain as she rolled down the steps before hitting a smoothed portion that slid her back to ground level. She tumbled to a dazed and groaning halt back on ground level and over twenty yards further along the wall.

Something hot was sliding across her face, and it took touching her forehead with trembling fingers to realize it was blood. Somewhere during the tumble, she'd scored a shallow scrape above her right eye.

"That's not good," she mumbled thickly as she sat up and summoned her light back.

The shimmering ball flickered uncertainly for a few moments before stabilizing, and she almost wished she'd left it out. The cave seemed to rock and swim in her vision, making her feel queasy enough to squeeze her eyes shut and swallow against the bile that rose in her throat. An abrupt screeching had her eyes snapping back open in time to see a massive skeleton come crawling over a building.

The beast was easily as tall as the wall behind her. Its skull was long and reptilian with yellowed fangs as long as her arm, and empty eye sockets that glowed with an unholy crimsom light, bathing the stone before it a bloody red. It crawled along on all fours, causing its claws, ribs, and the vertebrae in the tail to scrape along the ground with a hair-raising sound. Two boney appendages jutted out from its shoulders flicking open and closed like enormous finger-bones, and she realized they must've been wings at one point; the creature was an undead dragon—a dracolich.

The woman's stomach knotted in despair as her eyes darted every which way, trying to spy an escape. Adrenalin had washed away her former pain and dizziness and caused everything to snap into sharp and clear focus, and she spotted a half collapsed archway in the wall: the gate to the city, and perhaps her only hope... if she could reach it.

But the dracolich was too close now to try sprinting for safety. Even with its slow, clumsy gait, it covered more ground in one step than she could do in five while running. Destroying it seemed unlikely—she couldn't even fight three much smaller skeletons without getting bitten twice. And then the skeleton spoke, and she leapt a foot in the air in shock.

"Goldwyrm, you return at last... No... You are not Goldwyrm, though you bear the foul worm's blood."

Its voice was rattling and echoing, overlaid with an ancient hiss and immense fury. The glowing sockets seemed to flare brighter as it glared at her, and she felt her mouth go dry. Who or what was Goldwyrm, and what did the dracolich mean she bore their blood? For that matter, how was she understanding it speak? Its words certainly rang as unfamiliar, yet she had no trouble knowing what it was saying.

She licked her dry lips to wet them before asking in a quiet whisper, "Who are you?"

An angry hissing roar filled the air, causing her to flinch back, but the dracolich answered in a growl. "Once, I was the greatest dragon to fly the skies of a glorious kingdom. All cowered before my might and rage! Gleaming crimson were my scales, and far did my territory range! Now I crawl here, a worm in a city of rotten bones, caged to endless stone."

The dracolich had turned its head to contemplate the ruins it haunted, and the woman seized the opportunity to begin silently inching for the archway. Every step closer before she had to run mattered, which meant she needed to keep the dracolich distracted.

"How long have you been here?" she asked, unable to control a faint tremble in her voice.

An eerie clattering filled the air as the dracolich's bones rattled with fury. "Long enough to rot to the form you see now. One century? Two? Ten, perhaps? There is no sun here, no stars, no sky to turn in immortal count."

She had made it to the cover of some rubble, and ducked behind it, thinking rapidly. She was still too far to safely run, and had no clue if the archway even led to freedom. Her heart pounded with fear as she rapidly weighed her options. The dracolich was still distracted reminiscing, perhaps indulging in the first speech since it had become trapped here. A part of her felt guilty to be using its loneliness against it, but then she remembered the rage in it when it had first greeted her. Whoever Goldwyrm was, they had angered something so powerful it could continue to linger beyond death.

Suddenly, an angry roar filled the air, and she realized the dracolich had discovered her vanishing. Time was running out for her to make her move, and she still had no idea what to do. There was another several yards to her goal, and no cover between where she was hidden and the archway. A distraction, she desperately mused, was what she needed. But all she had at her disposal was a dagger not even half the length of one claw, a short sword she had no idea how to use, a staff she could only swing about like a club, and a useless ball of glowing light.

Her eyes widened and she sucked in a breath. Perhaps her light was the answer. If she could cause it to form in the shadows opposite of where she was hidden, then maybe she could sprint for safety while the dracolich was distracted. Of course, she had yet to even attempt summoning her light any further than a foot from her body, but there was no time like the present to learn. She hoped, anyway.

With a deep breath to try and calm her nerves, she cautiously peered around her cover to see the dracolich nosing through some rubble a yard or two away. It was closer than she'd thought, which made her heart skip a beat in fear. Then she pushed the danger as far from her mind as she could, directed her eyes to the edge of the ruined city, and focused.

For a few seconds, nothing seemed to happen. Then, a tiny flicker of light appeared, winking uncertainly in gloom, too dim to really be noticed. She focused harder, a trickle of sweat running down the nape of her neck. A brilliant flash happened before a column of light erupted from where she was looking, and she toppled back in surprise, eyes watering. The ploy worked, and the dragon whipped around with a triumphant screech. At nearly the same moment, the woman slipped out from cover to dart into the open, half-blind. She judged that she was nearly halfway there when the dracolich caught on.

"You dare attempt such pathetic trickery?" the dracolich bellowed. "Stand and fight as your blood demands! I shall have my revenge on Goldwyrm, one way, or another!"

"I don't know any Goldwyrm!" the woman cried as she ran. "Whatever they did to you, I had no part in it!"

"He struck me down, but refused to deliver the finishing blow! Instead he left me in the burning rubble, left me to be entombed in the earth! By his design or the gods', I have remained here, but no longer! With his blood, I shall be free!"

Well, that explained something, then: it needed her dead to break some kind of curse. Unfortunately, she had no intentions of dying here over some ancient feud. A chill along her spine had her diving to the floor, just in time to dodge emerald flames that shot past her head. Heat washed over her back and scorched the open wound on her leg, and she gritted her teeth as she continued scrambling half bent over. A claw swiped just short of where she'd been, gouging into the stone and sending chips flying into her calves.

"Almost there," she thought desperately.

An immense force slammed against her back, sending her hurtling through the air to tumble across the ground. A tingle swept through her body as a furious howl shook the ground. Green light illuminated the darkness as the dracolich unleashed another burst of eerie flames that slammed into some invisible barrier and spread over it. Not stopping to wonder what or why, the woman continued fleeing into a narrow passageway, echoes of roars chasing her. Scattered bones were crushed beneath her feet, thankfully not moving, and she didn't stop running until she could no longer hear the dracolich's roars.

Gasping for air, she slumped against a damp wall and sank to sit. Her scalded and bruised back protested the movement and rubbing, but she was too tired to do much more than wince. Lucky, she thought with a hysteric giggle, she had been way too lucky. The giggle soon shifted to stressed tears, and she simply sat there silently crying as the adrenalin flushed out of her system, leaving her shaky, tired, and in pain.

But she couldn't stay there forever. She needed to treat her wounds, find the surface, and maybe begin searching for answers as to why she'd woken up in an undead city. With a trembling grip on her staff, she pushed herself off the ground, summoned a new light—dimmer than before—and began walking.

An eternity seemed to pass there in the dark. She walked, but felt as though she was going nowhere. Eventually, she caved and curled up against a strangely warm wall for a brief nap, unaware of the lava tube running past several feet of stone. When she woke, her stomach growled at her, but she ignored it in favor of stumbling on. Her leg had healed during her sleep, as had the burns across her back, and she counted that as her latest blessing.

Finally, after an unknown amount of time had passed, she saw something new as she squeezed past a crack where a wall had crumbled. Suddenly, she was in a created hallway, lined with stone shelves, and smelling of the sickly sweet combination of musty herbs and rot. A crypt, her brain supplied, and she snorted.

"Of course it's a damned crypt," she muttered to herself as she crept forwards, casting a wary eye about. "And knowing my recent experiences, it'll be full of dead things trying to kill me."

But nothing moved as she wandered past embalming tables, deteriorating benches for worship, derelict coffins, carved epitaphs, creepy painted masks depicting the faces of the dead as they'd been in life, and dried offerings. It was only after she passed the same decorated urn for the fifth time that she realized she'd been wandering in a circle. With an aggravated growl, she deliberately turned down a new path that she'd been avoiding, lined with desiccated corpses wreathed in cobwebs that grinned at her with toothy death-smiles.

Finally, she found herself facing a set of heavy double doors barred from the inside. A pile of bones rested beneath it, and she realized with a chill that it had likely been a person who'd shut themselves in the tomb; she didn't think she wanted to know why.

With a shiver, she stepped over the skeleton, half expecting it to grab her, and lifted the heavy bar to set it aside. An ear-piercing screech filled the air as ancient hinges protested being moved, and dust rained down on her, and she was suddenly blinded by brilliant, warm sunlight. The woman coughed against the dirt she'd accidentally inhaled, and stepped triumphantly into the light with an overwhelming feeling of relief. A few seconds later, and her eyes slid shut, and slumped to the ground.

An entire day passed with her sleeping there, and it was just after dawn the next day that a murmur of voices woke her. She groaned and squinted against the morning light to see a trio of blurry faces peering down at her. For a moment, her heart soared without reason, before her vision cleared and she realized she didn't know these people.

The moment she moved, the three screamed and bolted, jabbering something she couldn't understand, and she jolted upright, expecting an attack. Instead, she was greeted with an empty graveyard and the sight of three people fleeing on horseback. The remains of a campsite sat just inside the graveyard gate, and she curiously pushed herself to stand. The tents had likely belonged to the three who'd awoken her, but she doubted they would be back. And since they were gone, maybe she could find some food among their things.

Twenty minutes later, and she was relaxing against a cracked monolith, chewing slowly on a piece of dried meat, having found several rations in the tents. She almost felt guilty for stealing, but decided that they had horses, and were more able to get more supplies than she was. And so she had helped herself to all their non-perishables, a loose blanket, a canteen half full of water, and a traveling cloak that was far warmer than just her robes. A second blanket made a decent knapsack for her supplies, and she figured she was as ready for travel as she could be. Now, she thought as she idly studied a gold leafed emblem on a crypt door, she just needed a direction.

OOOOOO

Lance rolled his eyes impatiently as Anna got the three spooked men settled by the fire in an effort to get their story out of them. By how they were armed, he assumed they must be bandits or corpse looters, but something had apparently scared them enough to flee without gathering any of their traveling equipment. If he had to venture a guess, they had run afoul of some demon or hybrid, and he wished they would just spill so the pair could get on with their usual tasks.

"So, what happened?" Anna asked kindly as she ladled some warm stew into chipped bowls.

"We- We was travelin' back from a worksite, and ended up campin' by that old graveyard in the foothills. Nothin' happened all night that we saw or heard, but come mornin'..."

"Vampire, maybe?" Lance mused in an effort to resist snapping at their poor grammar. "No, a vampire wouldn't be out during the day..."

"There were a woman there, sleepin' in the grass. We thought she were a fresh corpse, but she woke, and her eyes..." the man's voice broke off into a shudder. "They weren't no human's eyes."

"What did they look like?" Anna pressed when the man remained silent for too long.

"Silver; very beautiful, but slitted like a cat's or a snake's," the man recalled. "Her hair were like fire: orange and littered with ash. She looked for all the world to be a human, but she ain't. There ain't no woman that perfect, even countin' for her eyes."

"Certainly not that would appear before idiots like these," Lance muttered under his breath. He stood straight and cast a glance at Anna, who was grinning at him for the remark. "So, what do you think it is?"

Anna shrugged uncertainly, "A succubus, maybe? Or perhaps just a glamour—a poor one, if it didn't change its eyes. Did the creature do anything to you?"

All three men shook their heads. "Nay, simply blinked at us. We ran before it could do anything."

"That was probably for the best," Anna sighed as she stood up. "We'll give you three canteens of water, some jerky, and a few blankets. That should last you to the next town, provided you don't take any detours."

Lance sighed at the generous donation, but said nothing until he and Anna were out of earshot. "You know they're just vultures."

"Maybe so, but they're still human. Besides, we needed to pass off those blankets, anyway—they were getting threadbare."

Lance's mouth curled in a half-smirk. "And here I thought you were being nice. For shame, Anna, giving them trash."

Anna shoved him with a laugh before turning her eyes to the trail ahead of them. Her faint smile widened at the low chuckle Lance gave, and she shot him a challenging look over her shoulder before taking off.

"Last one to the cemetery has to make dinner!"

"Cheater!"

A few hours later saw them stopping for the night, breathless and laughing. Anna flopped to sit on the ground beside the road, and watched lazily as Lance moved about to gather branches for a fire. Soon, a cheery blaze was burning and some flatbreads were baking in a metal box Lance had fashioned for baking on the road. With a timer set, and leftover venison that hadn't been used in their earlier stew charring on skewers over the flames, he settled down beside Anna and smiled as she leaned against his shoulder.

"Love you," she murmured sweetly.

"Love you, too," Lance replied along with a kiss to the crown of her head before laughing. "...Even if you always cheat at our races."

Anna barely suppressed a grin as she pulled away in mock-offense. "I don't recall anyone specifying a starting line!"

"Mm, yes, that always seems to be something you overlook,"

"I don't think I like your tone, mister," Anna scolded, unable to keep her grin contained.

Lance leaned closer, and his voice fell to a low purr that sent delightful shivers up and down her spine, "Then maybe you should quit being a twit."

"I will never understand how you always manage make something as childish and insulting as twit sound so alluring," Anna whispered breathlessly as she leaned up to steal a quick kiss.

"It's a gift," Lance chuckled against her lips before he pulled away to nudge their bread out of the fire. He shot her a heated look at her huff and added, "And it helps that it's you I'm talking to."

"Flatterer," Anna snorted, though her cheeks flushed.

Dinner was a hurried affair, eager as they were for things that came after. And then Lance languidly reminded Anna of all the other things he had a 'gift' for, drawing moans, and gasps, and pleas from her throat until she grew impatient enough to flip them around and take what she wanted.

"You're always so impatient," Lance grunted as he thrust up with his hips.

"And you're always so slow," Anna shot back with a lopsided smile. She rolled her hips before canting faster, and panted, "Besides, I'm sure you can agree some things are better fast."

Lance's teeth flashed in the dim light from the fire as he rolled them onto their sides to more effectively hammer into his lover. It didn't take long from there for both of them to finish, and they slumped still, moaning and panting quietly. Anna scooted closer when Lance's arm wrapped around her, just under her breasts, and she leaned back against him with a long sigh.

"Awesome again," Lance breathed into her hair. "You'd think it'd lose its charm after a few hundred years, but no."

"Mm, I hope sex never loses its charm," Anna mumbled sleepily. "Next time, though, let's find a bed first. Camping sex has its perks, but I miss the sheets."

Lance's arm briefly lifted away from her to grope around for his adventure pouch to retrieve a large blanket, which he pulled over their cooling bodies. A brief shuffle later saw Anna's head pillowed on Lance's arm with her own arm across his chest, and the gunner's jacket under his head for a pillow.

They lay in drowsy silence before Lance mumbled, "So we're going to see Matt after we wrap this demon up, right?"

"Mmhmm," Anna agreed in a murmur. "Here's hoping he doesn't... try to...eat us... again..."

Lance snorted quietly and shut his eyes as sleep finally consumed him.

The next day saw their former race forgotten as they kept to a leisurely hike through the thinning trees. Both their faces still showed the glow of a morning after, though their conversation was serious as they discussed how to handle their foe. Anna was convinced that whatever it was couldn't be that dangerous if it had let three mostly unaware men escape it unharmed, though Lance was skeptical of that argument. It was possible, he'd pointed out, that whatever creature they'd disturbed was actually nocturnal, and disinclined to attack during the day. Eventually, both decided they'd have to do some preliminary scouting before engaging.

"Oh..." Anna breathed as the derelict gate of the cemetery came into view. "...I didn't realize we were so close to..."

Lance nodded somberly, eyes scanning the twin stone monuments of winged cats flanking the enchanted iron entrance marking the only way through high stone walls. The statues were carved from marble, but had cracked and worn with age and exposure, and hanging moss grew in clumps from the wings and tails. Still, there was no mistaking them as anything but the ceremonial guards to the graveyard where they'd had a monument erected to honor Natalie. Her ashes weren't buried in her family's cemetery, but it had seemed wrong to not have something to show her place among her passed kin, even if she hadn't liked them.

"...You okay?" Anna asked quietly, having watched Lance's expression shadow with memory and guilt.

There would always be guilt when he remembered Natalie and how he'd failed to save her—deserved or not. In fact, it had taken years before Anna had reached any kind of level of stability from the gunner. Years of sticking to him like glue, years comforting, and years of trying to keep him smiling and eventually happy. Even now, he sometimes woke from nightmares of the fight and how powerless and desperate he'd been, and she knew he still somewhat blamed himself for the turn Matt had taken to embracing a dragon's solitude.

Lance finally shook himself and nodded, "I'll be fine. Come on, I don't want to linger here."

And so they stepped inside the enclosure, and immediately spotted the campsite the three men had spoken of. It was clear that someone or something had already picked through it. Blankets were missing from the tents, and the only food to be found was a half stale chunk of bread—strangely, several staple items were also missing, like many of the utensils, though the pans had been left behind.

"Imp?" Lance suggested as they examined the site.

Anna shook her head and pointed to a print in the ash near the fire. "No, something humanoid—a woman, and probably our otherworldly beauty. But the size and width... she's wearing some kind of cloth wrap instead of proper footwear."

"Not a glamour, then, if she's leaving physical tracks, and she can't be some kind of ghost or wraith," Lance surmised as he knelt to also inspect the mark. "I don't see any sign of claws on the feet, either, so she isn't a lesser beast, and vampires are too vain to not wear shoes, so what could she be?"

"A halfbreed?" Anna wondered as she stood straight and scanned the campsite again. "That would explain the missing blankets and food with no sign of rodents scavenging; might explain why she had no interest in attacking the men, too. Maybe she's made her home here and they simply startled her."

Lance shrugged as he stood as well. "Maybe. See if you can find any other tracks around here; maybe we can track her. Don't attack unless she's aggressive."

Anna nodded and began rapidly quartering the ground, eyes darting about for signs of passing. The trail was fairly easy to find and follow in the soft earth, and they traced it backwards to find where the men has awoken the woman. They studied the open crypt with a frown, eyeing the way the bar had been on the inside and lack of evidence of forcing before deciding there must have been a second entrance. Anna led the way forwards once more, trailing around the cemetery to various crypts that had been opened and looted of anything valuable.

"A grave robber," Anna sighed as they neared the last building. "Well, I suppose it's all just going to waste here, but still..." She suddenly froze and raised one hand to halt Lance, her head cocked. "Well, well, I think our robber is still inside. The trail doesn't lead away again, either."

Lance nodded and readied his gunblade, now edged with pure silver. He stole to one side of the door and waited there as Anna circled the building to be sure there were no other exits. Then, on a silent count, they forced the door open, weapons raised threateningly.

A loud clattering filled the air alongside a surprised scream, and gold, jewels, and cutlery spilled across the ground. A slender figure had spun to face them, clutching an adamantine staff in her clawed hands with a clumsy grip. Her face was hidden by the hood of the cloak she wore, but her bangs were clearly a fiery orange, and her eyes reflected the light in an unnatural way.

"Put the weapon down and we won't hurt you," Lance ordered sharply. When the woman refused to comply, he raised his weapon slightly, "I'm warning you: last chance."

Instead of putting her weapon down, the woman flicked her hand and a ball of glowing light shot forwards. Lance arched a brow at the illumination spell and let it harmlessly hit his chest where it glowed. The attack, if he even deigned to call it as such, was pathetic, even as a distraction, and he easily snagged the woman when she tried to run past. He caught her wrists and held her firm as Anna moved forwards to pull her hood back.

And time seemed to freeze as an achingly familiar face glared at them—familiar even after so long. It was Natalie, right down to the freckles on her nose. Everything was exactly as they recalled, apart from her eyes, which were now a strange silvery-gray instead of the sea green they'd been before. It was clear she didn't recognize them as she fought wildly to escape with panic fueled strength. Any doubts they might have had of whether it was really her or not vanished when she spoke in a long-dead language.

"Let me go! I didn't escape a dracolich and his horde of undead cats just to get caught and killed by a pair of bandits!"

"N-Natalie?!" Anna gasped, releasing the mage, who immediately broke free of Lance's slack grip to cower in the corner.

Natalie's face showed some hesitant confusion at the sound of her name, but her eyes were mistrustful. "Who are you?"

"Gods, how the hell are you alive? Where have you been? Oh, just wait until Matt knows!"

Lance had moved past his initial shock and was now studying Natalie's baffled expression. He waved a hand to calm Anna down and murmured, "She doesn't understand you. If this is really Natalie returned from the dead, then she doesn't know the current dialects." He raised his voice and said, "Natalie, it's us: Lance and Anna. Do you remember?" His words were slow as he attempted to remember the the language and sentence structure of his birth.

Natalie relaxed somewhat at his words and shook her head ever so slightly. "No, not really, but I don't remember much of anything. You seem... really familiar, though." She hesitated, eyes darting between them. "You called me... Natalie. How do you know me? Or, maybe, how do I know you?"

Anna's expression sobered, and she exchanged an uncertain look with Lance. "Why don't we go outside? We can talk over some food."

Natalie's gaze darted between the pair, unsure whether she could trust them or not. Ultimately, the relief pumping through her veins convinced her to slowly nod. She definitely knew them on some level, and they hadn't actually hurt her beyond scaring the life from her when they'd burst in. Lance stepped back and to the side to let her go first, and her gaze darted to the floor where all the beautiful gems and gold she'd found were scattered.

Anna laughed softly. "You can gather your spoils. Not sure what's turned you to grave robbing, but it's technically all yours, in a way."

Natalie's eyes lightened and she crouched to begin pulling her gold back into a pile on her stolen blanket. When Lance bent to help, however, she let out an instinctive hiss at him, and he jerked back in surprise before realization filled his expression. Natalie looked mortified at the noise she'd let out and mumbled an apology, but Lance's mouth was twitching with amusement, not disapproval. He shook his head at Anna's confused glance and shot her a meaningful look that said he would explain later.

Eventually, they all exited the crypt with a sizable bundle of valuables clutched in Natalie's arms. Anna's brows rose at the sight of a dagger and a short sword at Natalie's waist, and she realized the mage's entire outfit was strange. The robe she wore was sloppily cut short and stained with soot and blood, though clearly of fine make, and her feet were wrapped in strips of cloth rather than shoes or boots. A makeshift pouch was tied at her waist, and bulging with several items.

"Where'd you get the robe and weapons?" Anna finally asked when they were seated at the abandoned campsite.

Natalie shrugged with a glance down at herself. "I found them in a ruined city. It was better than nothing, and I wasn't sure what I knew, but after some trial and error, I think I've discovered I have no idea what to do with a sword." Her eyes were distant as she murmured, "I must be a mage, I think. I can see fire leaping, and lighting, and ice, but I can't figure out how to use them. It's been... frustrating. And scary."

Lance spoke up from where his eyes were fixed on stoking the fire. "You're definitely a mage, and we can help you get back to where you were, but you can't fear that power. Fearing it was what- It can get you hurt." He sat back now that the fire was burning strong and turned his eyes on Natalie's strange silver ones. "Now, what happened? The last time we saw you was a long, long time ago, and we thought you were gone. Tell us everything you know and remember."

And for the next hour and a half, Natalie recalled everything that had happened to her: where she'd awoken, what she could remember of the strange visions, her lucky but successful flight from the undead and a dracolich. She laid out everything that she had deduced about herself from the fleeting moments of recollection and déjà vu, occasionally stopping as she abruptly remembered extra things here and there as she spoke. The more she talked, the more comfortable she became, sinking into a feeling of familiarity with Lance and Anna that felt right, like she had found something she hadn't even realized was missing until she had it again. And unbeknownst to her, the more she remembered here and there, the more flecks of ocean blue would appear in her eyes.

When she finished, the sun was well past its height, and Lance and Anna were stunned. The pair's eyes met in unspoken agreement as the truth washed over them. Natalie shifted somewhat uncomfortably as the silence stretched on for too long.

"So, um, do you have any idea what happened to me?" she asked in a quiet voice.

Anna's lips pursed, but she nodded. "This is going to sound like crazy talk to you, but-"

"I think an entire necropolis guarded by a raging dracolich is crazy talk, but it definitely exists," Natalie interrupted mildly with a wry smile.

The ranger laughed and nodded in agreement before leaning forwards earnestly. "Not too long before we last spoke, we—us three and another—swore a pact to Godcat. We serve as her guardians in exchange for extra strength, magic, vitality, and life. In addition to that, there are unique circumstances for certain kinds of... deaths."

Natalie nodded in understanding, her brow furrowed as her brain scrambled to absorb and retrieve the information. Her eyes turned to Lance's when he picked up where Anna left off.

"You died restoring one of Godcat's major fonts to proper order," he bluntly informed Natalie. His eyes were fixed on a point past Natalie's shoulder, and were dark with remembrance. "It was a... really messy affair. You had been horribly off balance from prior circumstances, all of us were handling everything very poorly, and we had run out of the options we thought we had. The end result was that our team was splintered: you had sacrificed yourself to seal a rift to a violent dimension, and Matt was devastated."

Natalie's face had gone white, but her eyes were stormy with rapid thought. She had died? Her brain hurt from absorbing so much information, but it seemed to agree with the news. But if she had died, then how was she here now? And who was Matt? Just hearing his name sent a mixed pang or longing and guilt through her, and she wondered what he'd meant to her before to cause such an intense reaction from simply hearing his name.

Anna unwittingly answered the first of her questions, her words soft and reverent. "Suiciding isn't allowed under the pact—the suicided will simply reform at the god's main altar—at the altar you mentioned waking up at. We thought—we never considered that transferring enough mana to die in the process of restoring Godcat's font would constitute as suicide, but it must have, for you to be here now." Her emerald eyes were suspiciously wet as she scanned Natalie's silver-flecked blue ones. "I... I've really missed you, Natz—we all did. I'm sorry you were all alone and in so much danger when you returned, but I'm so glad you're back."

Natalie swallowed against the lump that formed in her throat at Anna's emotional words. Both Lance and Anna were watching her with a sort of fervent joy, but they also looked wary, and it took her a few moments to realize why.

"I forgive you. And I... I didn't realize I'd missed you so much, but I did. Thank you for finding me."

Lance cleared his throat, and blinked rapidly before smirking. "Well, we were actually here to track down a 'woman too beautiful to be real'. Those men you scared will be telling stories about you at bars for drinks for weeks."

Natalie's cheeks flushed red, and she shot Lance a glare that had his smirk widening. Ultimately, she gave up and shook her head. "So, what happened to Matt?"

Instantly, Lance's smile vanished, and Anna winced. Natalie's heart plummeted and began to race with fear.

"He isn't... dead... right?"

"No, but he's... isolated," Anna admitted quietly. She couldn't quite meet Natalie's eyes as she explained, "He took losing you incredibly hard. He's practically a different person, now. We were going to visit him tomorrow, but maybe that should wait until you remember as much as you can without meeting him."

Natalie frowned and glanced between them. "Will he attack us?"

"Us? Yes," Lance agreed, gesturing between himself and Anna before nodding at her. "You? I'm not sure. He may recognize you and hold himself back, or he may assume you're some kind of shapeshifter and try to eat you in rage."

"Eat me?" Natalie repeated with a frown.

"Ah, that's right, you wouldn't remember. Matt's a Wyrm: a very old and very powerful dragon. He has a human form he used when hanging out with us and before we knew the truth, but he's never in it now. He much prefers filling the dragon stereotype: lying on a mountain of gold and jewels in remote cave, and incinerating anyone who comes close," Lance explained with a roll of his eyes, though his tone was sad. "We still visit every once in awhile, hoping he'll come around, but no luck, yet."

"Matt is a dragon?" Natalie gasped in disbelief.

Anna nodded empathetically. "The last true one left. Though, he shared his blood with you, so you're a half dragon of sorts."

Natalie's jaw dropped and she felt lightheaded. "I'm a what?"

"Maybe you should lie down, get some sleep," Lance suddenly suggested with a worried look at Natalie's shock. "It's been a long several days for you, and this is all a lot to take in."

"I think that would be a good plan," Natalie agreed weakly.

Before long, she was curled in Anna's borrowed sleeping bag inside their tent, and quickly fell asleep while Anna and Lance remained awake to talk.

"I still can't believe it," Anna murmured as she sipped on some tea. "Natalie is back."

Lance nodded with a faint smile. "Yeah. And she seems... better... than when she left. Not so angry and afraid." His smile faded as he cast a look east in the vague direction of Matt's den. "We can't hide this from him for long. It wouldn't be right."

"I'm worried about how little she remembers about him, though. Her being back but not loving him like she used to won't end well. Dragon's are possessive and loyal, after all. And what if she does remember everything else and it triggers a relapse? No, I think it would be better to take her to some familiar places and see if we can help her memory further before we bring her to see Matt."

"Not a lot of places left that she'll recognize," Lance pointed out. "Goldenbrick is nothing like it used to be, and Whitefall is a complete ice field, now."

"But Greenwood hasn't changed much at all. Let's at least take her there, first, and see what it does for her memories. If nothing else, we can get her some proper clothes," Anna suggested firmly.

"Alright, but best keep an eye on her. She might go for the Jewel as she is now," Lance laughed. His smile widened at Anna's bemused look, and he gestured at the sack of stolen goods Natalie had retrieved from the graves. "She's hoarding. I don't think she realizes it, yet, but her dragon blood is attracting her to shiny things. I mean, why else would she only take the gold and jewels? And she took the gold and gems she found underground, too, even though she was clearly thinking about what would be useful or not when she armed herself."

Anna's eyes widened and she covered her mouth to try and muffle her laughter as she realized Lance was right.

OOOOOO

Natalie trailed along behind Lance and Anna with her head twisting about, trying to take in everything around her all at once. The more she looked, the more her head hurt, and the more she needed to see. The village was unusual, with houses formed in the bases of live trees. Everyone had green hair and eyes, like Anna, and wore content smiles on their faces as they went about tasks like weaving, stacking firewood, farming, and chatting. It all looked and felt so familiar—even the sweet smell of the clean air was painfully familiar, though she recognized none of the villagers.

Their path led them past a large stump covered in moss and flowering vines. A chain of paper talismans had been hung around it, and there was a low table holding a few offers of flowers and food. Atop the stump rested a glowing emerald shaped like a leaf and edged in gold. Its very surface seemed to resonate power, and Natalie found herself drawn to it despite a voice in the back of her mind telling her it was off limits for very good reasons.

A hand clapping down on her shoulder had her starting out of her daze, and she jumped and turned to see Anna grinning at her.

"I know it's really shiny and pretty, but you can't add the Greenwood Jewel to your hoard, Natz."

Natalie nodded mutely before turning her eyes back on the jewel with a troubled frown. "There are... two more, though, right?" she asked slowly. "Are they here, too?"

Lance was the one to reply. "Yes, there are two more jewels, and no, they aren't here. It's dangerous to have even two together, and having all three in one place makes them all start reacting with each other. Originally, there were two other towns guarding the other two jewels, but they're gone now."

"But what happened to the jewels? Were they destroyed?" Natalie wondered as she finally tore her eyes away from the glowing emerald to look around at the sleepy village again. "And why is Greenwood still okay when the other towns aren't?"

The place didn't seem equipped to survive an event that had wiped out so many of the towns and villages they'd passed on their way here. Demons ran rampant almost everywhere, and where there weren't demons, bandits roamed. Though, Lance and Anna had seemed reluctant to talk of the event, so maybe it simply hadn't been as widespread as she thought.

"No, we moved them long before the towns were destroyed," Anna admitted quietly. "It isn't safe to talk about their location, though: you can never be sure who, or what, is listening, after all. And in the wrong hands, the jewels can be powerful and deadly weapons."

Natalie frowned as Anna avoided her question about Greenwood, but she followed behind the pair as they moved on. Soon, Anna was welcoming her inside a tree house—her house, she'd explained—and they were seated in a loose circle around a table with glasses of some kind of alcohol.

"So, does anything seem familiar? Lance asked, leaning forwards expectantly.

"Yes, very much so," Natalie agreed with a faint smile. Her smile became a little more wry as she admitted, "It's so familiar I keep having to remind myself that I'm awake. Although... none of the people are familiar to me at all, but then they wouldn't be if as many years have passed as you say."

Anna's smile was a little bittersweet as she looked out the window. "I can sympathize with that. I was born and raised here, and nothing much has changed except for the families. It can be hard, sometimes, to walk into the food court and realize the faces I'm seeing aren't the ones I was expecting." Her distant eyes cleared and she added more cheerfully, "But they're family regardless, and I love them; even if their stories about me get weirder every generation."

Lance snorted into his cup and told Natalie, "You should have seen her face when she heard a group of kids calling her the First Ranger. They've got an entire story explaining about how she was born from the trees and the wind, and formed Greenwood single-handedly, pulling all the first villagers from the mud. It's great."

Natalie smiled as Anna flushed pink with a groan. "Were you a founder of Greenwood, Anna?"

"Hardly. The village was already ancient when I was born. I suppose to most people, Lance and I must seem like demigods, but we're not—just really old and really skilled. Sadly, most of the documents from back then have rotted away with time and were never transcribed, so I can't prove it. A few of the elders know the oral history, but those change slightly with each telling, so they aren't one hundred percent accurate, either." She shook her head with a fond smile before moving on. "So, how has the mana focus been going?"

Natalie wasn't quite ready to change topics—everything she was hearing was so fascinating—but she shrugged. "It's going well. I dispelled that rainstorm that was following us, but I don't think you guys noticed. Plus, I haven't used the flint and tinder to start the fire at night for the last week."

Lance and Anna exchanged glances. Natalie was back to having fine enough of control to light a small spark, but broad enough of a range and effect to alter the weather; she'd shown competence and skill in the few battles they'd had, wielding all the elements she used to before her amnesia. It seemed as though her knowledge of magic was as good as they could teach.

The silence stretched on, and Natalie waited somewhat uncomfortably as Lance and Anna seemed to hold a silent conversation. Their expressions were serious, but reluctant, and she wondered if maybe she'd missed something important. A twinge of unease fluttered in her chest as she thought of the strange dreams she'd been having since rejoining them.

"I... Did we fight at some point?" Natalie asked quietly. "Me and Lance, I mean."

She couldn't imagine why: Lance had been an upmost attentive and caring friend, though also an insufferable twit sometimes. Yet the gunner stiffened at her question, and his hand rose to unconsciously rub at his chest. Natalie's eyes darkened as she recalled the faded scar the stretched over his torso.

"It isn't important, now," Anna said flatly in a tone of finality.

But Natalie was tired of having her questions subverted or ignored. She was tired of being cautiously explained things that should have already been hers to know. They'd purposely worded their answers to her most important questions to be as vague as possible, and she wanted to know why.

"Guys, I think I've remembered as much as I'm going to off of coincidence and experiences alone. Now tell me the truth, please. Why did I decide to kill myself back then when there were other ways to achieve what I did? When and why did I attack and harm Lance seriously enough that he has scars centuries later? What happened to the world that made so much of it look completely different than from what I can recall?"

Lance's face crumpled and Anna's eyes darkened. They exchanged a final look before standing.

"Let's go to the story teller's hut," Anna quietly said. "You need to hear what happened from a neutral party, and his visions are... vivid. You'll get to see what happened exactly as it happened." Her voice fell even further as she quietly added, "Just... remember that while you can't change the past, you can learn from it. Don't make the same mistakes as we all did back then. Please."

"And don't be afraid of it," Lance somberly supplied. "Fear and close-minded thinking were what caused it all. Take what you've experienced and felt since waking up, and use it to judge what you're told and will see." He wouldn't quite meet Natalie's eyes as he walked around her. "I don't hate you for what happened, and I understand why it did happen. I just hope you'll be able to reach the same conclusions we did. And if you do, then we'll take you to see... It'll be time for you to meet Matt."

Now Natalie was incredibly nervous. Their entire attitudes had shifted, and she was afraid of what that meant she was about to hear. A feeling of unnamed dread and helplessness began to bubble in her stomach, and she suddenly wondered if maybe she didn't want to hear the answers to her questions at all.

Then, her dream of a smiling blond filled her mind, and her face set. There was no else that blond could be but Matt, and she wanted that feeling of safety, warmth, love, and homecoming back. And if she wanted him back, then she needed to remember; even if she now felt like she was about to see her own funeral.

The storyteller's hut was a long, fallen trunk with smoke rising from a raised section of bark. Symbols and stories had been carved on the walls, depicting legends and monsters. There was no door, but a heavy colored cloth was draped across the entrance, and a faint glow came from underneath. Lance and Anna led the way to the door before stopping and turning to face Natalie.

"We'll wait for you here," Anna announced.

Lance nodded and hesitated before reaching into his adventure pouch and holding out a tarnished necklace with a glowing charm hanging from it. "...Take this with you. If you feel yourself losing control, put it on. You don't have to, of course, but it will help if you think you can't control yourself on your own."

Natalie's fingers trembled as they closed around the pendant, and her throat was dry. "Why won't you come in?" she asked in a small voice.

"The story teller's magic works off of memories—either from a single person, or a collection from a crowd. We were all there when this event happened, and we all remember it slightly differently; we don't want to skew what happened with our own thoughts and regrets," Lance explained quietly. His eyes drifted to the side and he added in a low whisper. "I don't want to see it again, anyway."

Anna's smile was wan as she rested a hand on Natalie's shoulder. "You'll be fine, Natz. Just remember that everything you'll see is made of illusions and smoke. Nothing in there can hurt you. We'll be waiting right here when you come out. I promise."

Natalie swallowed and nodded back before pushing her way past the cloth drape. Inside the hut was warm and dark compared to outside. A fire pit blazed in the center with smoke rising up to drift out of a hole in the ceiling. Tapestries hung from the walls and ceiling depicting the same stories as decorated the walls of the hut outside. A sweet scent filled the air from incenses burning on an altar in the back.

For several moments of careful scanning, Natalie thought that maybe she was the only one inside, and nearly turned around to head back out. Then, a huddled shape shifted in a chair across the fire from where she stood, and she jumped. An elderly man with long, green hair so faded it was nearly gray raised a wizened hand to beckon her to take a seat. His eyes were bright and sharp with intelligence and wisdom, and his smile was warm and open.

"Welcome, stranger, to Greenwood's story hall," he greeted in a rasping voice. "What brings you to me? Is it a thirst for history, for forgotten rites, for songs of the ancients? Perhaps you wish to hear tales of great heroes and triumphant hunts? Or do you seek legends so chilling that the moans on the wind will haunt you for days to come?"

Natalie found herself distracted by a wisp of smoke that she swore had formed a seed that rapidly sprouted and grew into a tree. In the next instant, she blinked, the image was gone, and she wasn't sure if she'd imagined it or not. She shook herself and brought her eyes back to the storyteller who watched her with a knowing gleam in his eyes, and found herself telling him something that she was sure would sound insane to anyone outside of herself, Anna, and Lance.

"Anna told me that you could tell me what happened before I died," she whispered. "Something happened that changed the world, and I can't remember what it was, and she and Lance won't tell me."

The storyteller's gaze flickered with shadows before something akin to realization and surprise lit his eyes. "Ah, you must be Natalie, their late fourth companion—though clearly not as dead as they once assumed." He shifted slightly to get more comfortable, and reached to a small covered pot sitting on a table beside him. "The story you seek is a tragic one, filled with accidents and consequences. You were a focal point to many of the events that passed, but know that no matter actions taken, no matter the intended purpose, or the results, the world survived and carried on. No one person can truly hold the blame for everything—not you, nor I; neither Lance, nor Anna; neither Matt, nor even Godcat herself. Do you understand me, Natalie?"

"I... I think so," she replied uncertainly. "I shouldn't blame myself or anyone else for things that now seem so obviously stupid."

"Nor should you blame anyone in the future for making decisions based on the facts they had," the storyteller agreed. "Now, this tale takes us back over seven hundred years, to a time when demons did not exist, and great swathes of the land remained unmarked by Man's hand..."

Natalie's fingers curled in the skirt of her dress and she listened intently as the storyteller's voice took on a deep, resonating tone. And the more she listened to him describing a stormy night where three friends fought and lost to their fourth friend, the more she thought she could actually see the events. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck as the fire flared a little higher and smoke filled the air from a dash of powder being thrown upon it; her heart began to beat faster with an anxious dread before all but stopping as a phantom pain pierced it.

But the story didn't stop with Matt leaving herself and the others in the cave with a ruined altar. It danced across years of unease and mistrust, delved into a tentative truce among friends and fragile bonds being reforged. Natalie didn't notice the tears now trailing down her face as she saw and remembered losing control, and lashing out at Matt. She didn't notice that the story teller's voice was barely an echo as she relived hiking up a mountain trail. She didn't hear when he faltered and seemed to study the mists and images he'd conjured from her mind and his magic before continuing on.

Fear choked Natalie's throat as she suddenly realized that it was her actions that had ripped open the portal that allowed demons to flood her world. The others hadn't known what had caused the rip, and she hadn't told them, but she remembered them suspecting the truth; Lance had gotten Matt to dig up an artifact to collar her magic, an artifact she now had clenched in a sweaty palm. Godcat had certainly known when she'd summoned them to discuss reinvigorating a font, yet the goddess hadn't told her friends, nor blamed her for her foolishness.

Gods, how many hundreds- thousands had died because she'd set hordes of demons upon them? She had single handedly altered the natural course of the entire world by trying and failing to control her magic. It made her sick to think about it, and the feeling of nausea rang true from her memories. And so she'd made a desperate promise to the dead and living to fix her mistake, no matter the cost.

Her life had seemed so valuable at the time, she bitterly thought. How vain, to think her own life ending could possibly make up for the thousands of lives she'd stolen, and the thousands more she could have saved had she stayed alive.

And what of Matt? He'd dedicated his existence to the careful guarding and comforting of her. He'd loved her, offering her something she had thought she would never have from him. But once he'd offered it, she hadn't been able to accept it.

It was no wonder he'd retreated from the world after her death. Who could blame him? He'd survived centuries upon centuries of cruel servitude, and countless people had wormed their way into his heart only to betray him, and she was no different. If anything, she had been worse, having successfully won his heart only to refuse it. He'd assumed she would be fine with or without him, and had left her behind to face a superior foe alone. But that wasn't what she had thought: she had thought he'd blamed her, and she'd chosen that moment to make everything up to him.

And Lance had tried to stop her. He'd faced her down, first with words, and then with actions. And just like with Matt's heart, she'd trampled over him. That scar on his chest was the mark she'd left. She'd turned the elements upon him, and he could never have overcome her magic—gods, she'd set him on fire. How could she look him in the eyes now? She easily could have killed him, and unlike her, he would have been permanently dead.

The sight of her own funeral pyre nearly caused her to throw up. The anger and words Lance lashed Godcat with echoed with pain. And Matt had passed out from shock and grief, only to send the others away when he woke. Now he guarded a hoard of treasure at the edge of the world, alone.

Abruptly, Natalie found herself staring at the fire in the storyteller's hut, feeling dazed and weak. Her body trembled, her cheeks were covered in tears, and her clothing was damp from sweat. She stiffly brought her right hand up and uncurled her clenched fingers to stare at the tiny pendant that was nearly embedded in her skin from being grasped so tightly.

No wonder Lance had seemed so hesitant to give it to her. It was as a symbol of how dangerous she could be—to herself and others. It was a symbol of a lack of faith, but also a promise of safety. It had been her collar and her freedom. Without it bringing her magic to heel, she could never have traveled with her friends.

"What should you have done differently? What can you do differently this time?"

Natalie slowly raised her head to look at the storyteller who watched her with no judgement or anger. "I should have trusted them... they could have helped me control myself—Matt did help me control myself, once." Her eyes welled with fresh tears and she choked back a sob. "But how can I face them? Lance was right: I can't be trusted. Just look at what I did without even trying; look at what I did to him when I was trying."

The storyteller shook his head with an understanding frown. "Without trying, you single-handedly taught a bitter and ancient creature to love again. And while trying, you saved the world from the terrors of the devourer, Akron."

"And I doomed that same creature to centuries of heartache and misery, and I doomed the world to an endless plague of demons!" Natalie cried. She stared at her hands with disgust and shook her head. "I don't want this power if it can do things like that..."

"It is a great and terrible power, and it comes with equally great and terrible responsibility," the elder agreed in a murmur. "But power without focus is inert. One must choose to do something with power for it to have any effect at all—for good or for ill. Take your friends, Lance and Anna: they use their power to purge demons and rebuild villages and lives. Yet just as easily as they restore—perhaps even more easily—they could raze. The difference lies in their choice."

Natalie's shoulder's slumped a little as she listened, but she didn't look up from her hands.

"Matt has a power even greater than theirs. Yet rather than use it for good or evil, he squanders it. He sits, he sleeps, and he mourns. His power does nothing. That, too, is a choice."

"But back then, I... I didn't choose to lose control, and it happened anyway," Natalie whispered. Her head ducked and she squeezed her eyes shut. "How can I know it won't happen again?"

The storyteller folded his hands in his lap. "You did choose. You chose to let your fear control you. Fear is often irrational, and that irrationality reflected in your magic as an erratic power. Clearly it is not always in control, however. After all, you seem to be doing well now, are you not?"

Natalie's trembling stilled as she considered that. Lance had said something similar more than once. He knew exactly what had gone wrong with her magic—what could go wrong again. It was why he'd returned her pendant, and why he'd so often told her not to fear her magic. Yet he'd also known she was headstrong, even vain, when it came to magic, and would never have listened to his advice. And he had reminded her to consider everything she now knew with regards to when she hadn't known. She'd certainly been afraid in the necropolis, but her magic had never gone haywire. She had refused to panic, and instead channeled her fear into rational thought.

And if she could do it back then with no grasp or control over her magic, then why the hell couldn't she do it now when she knew the proper techniques?

Natalie finally looked up and met the storyteller's calm gaze. "Thank you," she whispered fervently. "Thank you for telling me the story, and thank you for sharing your wisdom."

"It is only as my role dictates. Now, I do believe there are people waiting for you outside. So go, Natalie. Go and use your power for good."

Natalie nodded, wiping her cheeks with her palms. She stiffly stood, her knees protesting moving after so long in the same position, and bowed deeply to the storyteller. He returned the gesture with a nod before shutting his eyes and seeming to meditate.

The late afternoon sun was blinding after so long in the dim hut, and Natalie paused and rapidly blinked against the reflexive tears. It had been several hours since she'd first entered, she realized in surprise. With a deep inhale of the clean air to clear the remainders of the incense from her nose and mind, she turned to face Lance and Anna.

Both were silently watching her with somber expressions. They took in her once-again clear, ocean blue eyes with no flecks of silver, and knew she must have regained the rest of her memories. Her face was certainly pale enough to suggest she'd seen something as harrowing as her own death. Now they could only wait to see what she had to say to them.

"I can see why you didn't want to hear all that," Natalie finally said quietly with a shadow of an attempted smile on her lips. She hesitated, unable to quite meet their eyes for a few moments before squaring her shoulders. "I'm sorry. I- I can't make up for what I've done—to you and everything else. I should have trusted you, back then, but I didn't. I can see why I didn't, but I was still wrong. Things would have turned out much differently if I hadn't run from myself and hidden from you."

Lance shook his head. "We were hardly blameless for everything. I didn't trust you, either, and I wasn't mature enough to handle what was happening in the right way. If we hadn't rushed you off of the isolation of Matt's island, and I hadn't foisted a suppressive amulet on you, then we could have actually dealt with your fears and frustrations. Instead, we barreled off headlong into action, and we reaped the consequences of what we sowed."

Anna nodded her agreement with a miserable frown. "I could have been sympathetic, or I could have been supportive, but instead I blamed you. I blamed you for being angry, I blamed you for being afraid, and I blamed you for how you handled that anger and fear. I'm well aware that I can have a sharp tongue; I just wish I'd had the same grasp of time and place for all words that I do now."

Natalie swallowed against the lump in her throat and stepped forwards to throw her arms around her friends. "I'll do better this time. I promise," she whispered.

"We all will," Lance replied just as quietly as he returned her hug.

When they stood back, Natalie had a determined glare in her eyes. "Let's go pick up Matt. Seven hundred years is plenty of time to mourn. And, really, there's no reason to anymore."

"It might not be that easy to get through to him," Lance cautioned. "He's dangerous, and not at all the same as he was."

Natalie shook her head. "He'll listen to me," she refuted firmly. Her lips curled in a humorless smile. "He wouldn't dare not to."

And so they stopped by Anna's house for a quick meal of fruit and cold sandwiches. It was there that Natalie handed back the amulet Lance had given to her.

"Thank you for giving me the choice, but I don't need it now," she told him. "If I have enough power to change the world for the worse, then I sure as hell better have enough power to change it for the better. And I can't do that if I hide my mana under an amulet, right?"

Lance's smile was a beautiful thing to see as he pocketed the amulet. "I knew you didn't need it, but I'm glad you had it just in case. You ready to talk some sense into Matt?"

"Always. Let's go."

Anna led the way to the warp stone where she took a deep breath. Natalie watched with interest as the the ranger gained an aura of shimmering light, and realized Anna must have been really practicing her magic since the fallout. In the next instant, they were standing on a rocky shore with the sun sinking onto the waves. At their feet, half buried in the stone and hidden under a camouflage net of fake seaweed and driftwood, was a second warp stone.

"Matt destroyed the first several we placed," Anna explained quietly. "Turns out dragons have an eye for shiny stuff, and warp stones are always shiny."

Natalie nodded her understanding before turning her eyes to the looming peak over their heads. "So Matt will be in his dragon form?"

"Just inside the cave," Lance confirmed tensely, scanning the sky for any sign of Matt being out and about. "He's certainly not swooping down to kill us, at any rate."

Natalie's expression darkened with concern, but she said nothing else as she started the hike up the cliff side. Time had changed the path, and weather had further eroded the trail to make it treacherously unstable. Anna led the way, guiding them to safe footing as they climbed ever higher. The very air seemed heavy with tension, and the forest above them was too silent. In fact, the only noises were from the endless crashing of waves against the rocks far below, and the wind moaning through cracks in the cliff.

It was far more depressing now, Natalie thought sadly. Even the mountain above looked different—more jagged and imposing than it used to.

Finally, they reached the edge of the forest on the plateau, and the dark entrance of Matt's den yawned before them. Natalie eyed the opening with a frown, reaching out with her senses—both magical and not—to try and find Matt. He was certainly nearby, but something told her he wasn't in the cave. Something else told her that danger was near. On instinct, she reached out to grip Anna's arm to prevent the ranger from stepping out into the open.

Anna shot Natalie a confused glanced, but stepped back again. She followed Natalie's gaze up above the cavern entrance. Nothing was there that she could see, but she knew Natalie had better night vision, thanks to her dragon blood.

And indeed, Natalie had spied something that caused her breath to stall in her chest. The mountain did indeed look different, and that was because Matt was sleeping on top of it. He was even larger than she remembered, and she belatedly recalled him once explaining that a dragon's form never stopped growing as they aged. He'd added twice again to the mountain's height, and a coating of dust and grit cloaked his gleaming scales so that he looked the same shade as the mountain face. His spine formed a jagged cliff, his wings two more peaks. His tail was curled around the mountain, ending barely ten feet away as a bulge in the earth. His head rested just over the cavern entrance, and easily as large, with a face seemingly carved from stone.

"What's up, Natz?" Lance asked quietly.

"He's huge," Natalie breathed. "I mean, he was big before, but now... Gods, if I hadn't known he was here, I would never have seen or guessed he was there."

Lance stiffened and raised his eyes the the dark peak of the mountain. While he couldn't see the details like Natalie could, he could tell the mountain was much taller than it should be. Matt had never assumed his largest form since that battle against the dark dragon, and no wonder. There was no way in hell he could fit in the cave at that size.

"Maybe we should wait until dawn," he suggested uneasily. "Anna and I can't see well in the dark like you—and he—can."

Natalie shook her head. "No. If I'm going to get him to listen to me, then now is my best chance. He'll think he's sleeping—dreaming. You and Anna stay back and move downwind so he won't smell you. With any luck, he won't sense you before he notices me." Her grip on her staff tighten and she added softly, "And if he dares to try and attack me, well... he'll get a taste of my magic."

Anna and Lance swallowed their protests, and silently nodded before melting back into the forest. They moved around to a vantage point some distance away where Anna cast a weak night-eye spell. The scene below was blurry and in greyscale, but they could see the small shape of Natalie stepping into the open. A faint echo of her voice reached them, though they couldn't hear her words, and their hearts leapt to their throats as the entire mountain moved, uncurling into the enormous wyrm that was Matt.

Natalie gave her friends ten minutes to relocate before taking a deep breath to steady her nerves. She took five steps into the open and crooked her staff in her elbow as she crossed her arms.

"Wake up, Matt," she demanded with far more certainty than she really felt.

A rumble shook the earth, and twin eyes snapped open. The deep, glowing cerulean blues rolled down to fix on her, and the pupils rapidly dilated. Dirt and rocks showered down to expose golden scales as Matt rose to his full height, causing her to have to crane her head to meet his eyes, which she could only manage because he craned his own neck to look down at her with a cold glare. His wings spread wide, making his already awesomely immense form even larger, and he cast a dark shadow over the plateau as his head was silhouetted by the moon so that all she could see were his eyes and the ominous glow of fire behind his fangs.

Eyes that glowed with near-madness, she noted uneasily. It hadn't occurred to her that maybe Matt was no longer sane. But she couldn't give up on him any more than he had been able to give up on her.

Natalie raised her staff and summoned her magic. He was large, yes, but he was still susceptible to gravity, and she watched impassively as his legs buckled under her might, sending him crashing to the ground. Had he been flying, she might have had more trouble, but as it was, his head landed not far from her and she stepped around his nose to meet his glare with one of her own. He needed to see her—really see her—before she would be forced to let her spell go. Gravity magic was one of the most draining, and he was so large that her spell likely wouldn't last more than a few seconds.

But a few seconds were all she needed. She watched his eye widen and the reptilian pupil contract in shock as he finally recognized her. Barely a second later, and she let her magic go with sweat beading her brow. She could see her own reflection in his eye, which was nearly as big as she was tall.

"Can you manage a civilized discussion with me?" Natalie finally asked quietly. She didn't even realize that she'd slipped back into her old speech.

Matt didn't move or speak; he simply stared at her with a gleam of devastated longing and disbelief in his eye. He actually flinched away when she raised a hand to brush the ridge of his brow. Natalie drew her hand back before touching him and bit her lip.

"I've... been gone awhile, I've been told," Natalie whispered. She swallowed when he shuddered at her voice, and tried for a weak smile. "You've gotten... really tall."

Matt shifted, but not in a menacing way. All he did was bring his legs in more comfortably and furled his wings back against his sides. His eye remained fixed on Natalie and seemed to silently beg her to keep talking.

"It took awhile for me to get back to you. I had some trouble on the way," Natalie went on.

She risked settling down on the ground with her legs tucked under her and her staff resting on the ground beside her, never breaking Matt's gaze. The ground was chilly, she distantly noted, but not unbearably cold—or perhaps that was simply her dragon blood warming her.

"I couldn't even remember who I was for a while there. Something must've gone wrong with Godcat's pact, because I reformed at her altar, but way late and not really complete. You know there's an entire forgotten city underneath where Goldenbrick used to be? It's full of treasure... and undead."

And so Natalie quietly talked to Matt for several hours on end. Her throat became dry and tired from use, and a tight feeling persisted in her chest, but she couldn't bear to stop talking. Matt looked as though his very life depended on hearing her voice, though he had yet to make any noise at all, himself.

So she told him about her adventure beneath the earth, of coming out into the sun and being found by Lance and Anna. She talked about how surprised she'd been to meet them and learn about the world again. Her voice nearly broke as she recalled the storyteller and his advice, and the epiphany she'd had. Finally, she apologized for not living up to his hopes and dreams, and for leaving him alone.

Still, Matt said nothing. The sun was rising, bathing them in soft, pink light and glinting off of Matt's scales. But despite the beautiful, serene moment, Natalie felt a deep sadness at Matt's silence.

"Won't you talk to me?" she pleaded in a low voice. Her fingers curled in her lap before she relaxed them and brought one hand up to her heart. "It hurts here, still. I want it to stop, and I think only you can make it stop hurting. Please, Matt."

Matt's wings rustled slightly, but he didn't say anything. To him, he was dreaming, and he never wanted it to end. Never before had one of his dreams of Natalie been so realistic. He could smell her, see her, hear her, and sense her. Almost always, all he could do was see her; the only times he heard her were during nightmares of her screams—of pain... or of anger.

Natalie's shoulders slumped and she finally broke eye contact to duck her head to hide behind her bangs as her hand fell back to her lap. "I understand that I was a horrible person back then. You trusted me and I couldn't give you the same trust. You loved me, and I couldn't give you the same love. You even went so far as to share your blood with me, but I couldn't respond the way I should have. Maybe... Maybe we missed our chance, huh?" A few tears trickled down the bridge of her nose to splash on her hands, and her voice was tight as she asked. "Can I come back and talk to you like this again? It... It helps a little. I'd like to come see you again."

Matt could almost agree with that. He'd like to see her again, too, of course, but he'd rather she never went away. But he could tell the peaceful spell of his dream was ending, and he'd soon wake up. Indeed, Natalie was standing and backing away, despite his longing stare.

A flicker of movement behind her finally had his gaze shifting, and his eyes narrowed slightly on a pair of familiar figures waiting just inside the trees. Lance and Anna knew they weren't welcome here anymore, and they'd dared to come back again, anyway. He'd have to find and destroy their latest teleport stone. Maybe this time they'd finally give up and leave him to his dreams and nightmares. Like the one of...

Natalie... walking away... sharing a hug with them... and breaking into tears...

Matt's eyes widened, and his head shot up. He barely registered Lance's gunblade all but appearing in his hand before falling to the ground.

Natalie wasn't a dream; she wasn't a vision, or an illusion. She was back! How, he didn't know, but he also didn't care. Without even registering his shift, he was dashing across stone on two legs to tackle her to the ground with his arms clamped around her waist. He barely had the presence of mind to be sure to twist their fall so that he'd absorb the impact. Sobs shook his form, and tears poured from his eyes as he clung to Natalie with desperation. She was back, and he was never letting her go again.

Natalie squeaked in surprise and went entirely stiff at the sudden impact and embrace before letting out a grunt as she and Matt hit the ground. She stared at the side of his head and swallowed as it sank in that he must've heard her. He was crying against her neck—horrible, body wracking sobs—and was holding on to her so tightly that she could hardly breathe. Before long, she felt a series of loving kisses fall against her neck, and her expression softened even as a blush rose on her cheeks. The persistent ache in her chest that had only gotten worse the more she remembered, finally began to die down.

"Let me sit up so I can greet you properly?" she asked in a breathless murmur. She nudged his head with her own when he didn't move and added lightly, "Or at least let me breathe?"

Matt started and instantly sat up, hauling her with him, and loosened his grip just enough so that she could take a deep breath. His mouth wobbled as she turned around in his grasp to smile at him, and he swallowed against the fresh wave of tears that threatened to fall. He'd just been about to speak when Natalie tilted her head and leaned up to press a deep kiss to his lips, sending lightning through his veins. With a sigh through his nose, he pressed closer to deepen the kiss and shut his eyes while one of his hands buried in her soft hair.

Lance and Anna stood a few feet away with ecstatic smiles on their faces. Anna had tucked herself against Lance's side with his arm around her waist, and she let out a happy sigh.

"This has been too long in coming," she breathed so that only Lance could hear, not wanting to disturb the reunited couple.

"I thought it would never come," Lance admitted softly. His smile grew a little wider and he shook his head in amazement. "Yet Natz pulls another miracle—two, actually."

Matt heard the two speaking, but he refused to pull away from Natalie long enough to acknowledge them. A burning fire that had gone cold at her death flared to life again, bringing with it old and new dreams and hopes. It took her pulling back to gasp for air to get him to withdraw and realize his own lungs were aching. His eyes remained shut for a few moments as he simply basked in her warmth and scent. Finally, he brought an arm up to wipe the tears from his face and let out a soft laugh before opening his eyes.

"Natalie," he breathed in a reverent voice, saying her name for the first time since she'd died.

The mage shivered at the way he spoke her name like a prayer. Her eyes were wide and flickered with more emotions than she could give name to, and her mouth hung slightly open. She swallowed twice before trusting herself to speak, but wasn't sure what to say.

"I'm back," she whispered lamely. A lump formed in her throat at the dazed smile that spread on his face, and she felt an enormous guilt well up as she choked out, "Matt, I'm so, so sorry. I- I wasn't thinking back then. I was angry, and confused, and afraid, and... And I hurt you. Badly. Will you let me try again? To be better, I mean, not to hurt you, because I don't want to hurt you, and I didn't. Want to hurt you, of course, and-"

Matt pressed two fingers to her lips to cut off her rambling apology and shook his head. "There's nothing to apologize for or forgive, Natalie. You came back to me; that's all I could ever have asked for," he murmured. His voice fell and shifted to a rasping language that startled Natalie to hear, "Natalie, my beautiful queen."

"Your... queen?" she repeated in an uncertain whisper, causing Matt to still and gain a light blush. "What does that mean?"

Matt studied her for a few moments before his expression cleared and he shook his head with a soft smile before standing up and pulling her to her feet as well. "It means you're coming into your blood," he mused more to himself than to her. His expression cooled some as he cast a look at Lance and Anna before shrugging. "Come on, we can talk inside... All of us."

"Still as shiny as ever," Lance commented as they passed Matt's hoard.

"Shinier, since you chucked that stupid rock in here," Matt growled in a disgruntled voice. "Do you know how many gods-damned demons have been here for that blasted jewel?"

Natalie's eyes widened slightly in understanding. "One of the jewels is in here?"

Anna nodded tightly. "Yes. Lance and I decided to hide the Whitefall jewel in Matt's store since he's here at all times, and there couldn't be a finer guard. It was an... interesting effort."

"Interesting is hardly what I would call it," Lance snorted. He shot an unreadable look at Matt's back that Natalie translated as unspeakably angry.

"Um, what happened?" she asked hesitantly, and not entirely sure she wanted to know the answer.

"I lured Matt from the cave and distracted him while Lance slipped inside to deposit the jewel."

"What she's not saying is that Matt tried very damn hard to kill the both of us in the process," Lance growled bitterly.

"You should have known better than to come back here," Matt snapped. "Besides, I never actually intended to permanently harm or kill either of you, and it is an insult to imply I don't know what I'm doing. If you both had just stayed the fuck away like I told you to, then nothing would have happened."

"You have a duty, Matt; one you've been shirking off on us for seven centuries," Anna hissed with angry tears in her eyes. "And why? Because you couldn't face the truth like we could, so you holed yourself away like the coward you've become, and gods help any stupid idiot who dared disturb you."

Matt's eyes flashed with rage and his pupils slitted in a way Natalie had never seen before; she uneasily wondered if she had looked like that when she'd fought Lance. But now wasn't the time to dwell on past mistakes—not when Lance's hand rested warningly on his gunblade and Matt looked to be seconds away from attacking. With a deep breath she planted herself between the other three.

"Guys, this isn't the way to handle this," she said firmly with a hint of a plea in her voice.

"Matt doesn't know how to 'handle' anything," Anna growled in reply, earning a low snarl from Matt.

Natalie fixed the ranger with a sharp look. "You told me you wished you'd had the presence of mind back then to know when to not say something. Prove to me right now that you've learned it since."

Anna started and her eyes minutely widened before she took a step back. Natalie nodded with a grateful glance before turning her eyes to Lance.

"You're in Matt's home right now, Lance. Leave the weapon away—you know it won't do you any good other than to antagonize Matt, anyway."

Lance's expression soured, but he nodded stiffly and let his hand relax by his side. Natalie turned her gaze on Matt next.

"They aren't wrong, Matt. You should have helped them over all these years. But!" she raised her voice when Matt opened his mouth to object and spoke over his protest, "I can see why you did. You know better than any of us what it means to be a guardian, and the fact that you chose to ignore the pact anyway speaks volumes of how you felt." Her voice fell some with uncertainty as she held Matt's now-detached eyes. "If you're going to blame them and chase them away, then you have to do the same to me, too. I'm just as guilty as they are for what happened—in fact, I'm even more so. And they're trying to do better by me- by us. They helped me when I needed them and had no firm memories. And instead of trying to wash away what had happened like it had never passed, they helped me regain what I'd lost and rebuild what I'd broken. Let me have the chance to do the same for them, please."

Matt looked unmoved by Lance and Anna's purported actions, but Natalie's plea softened his gaze. Several long moments passed in tense silence before he heaved a sigh. "Fine. They can come on the island: I won't attack them or try to drive them off anymore, I swear it."

"How... generous... of you," Lance replied drolly, causing Natalie to shoot him a warning glare. He took a step back and was followed by Anna. "We'll leave you two here for tonight and tomorrow."

Natalie nodded with a grateful smile, even though a twinge of unease ran through her. Matt was so very different from what she knew, and she wasn't sure she could connect with him as he was now. A tiny, dark part of her mind wondered if she was even safe with him. He'd attacked Lance and Anna, after all, and their crimes had been imagined while hers had been all too real. Then she chased that doubting voice away: this was Matt, and changed or not, he clearly still loved her. He wouldn't hurt her.

And so, with parting hugs to Lance and Anna, Natalie was left in the cave with Matt. She took a deep breath before turning to meet Matt's eyes, only to find him staring at her unblinkingly. With an awkward scuff of her foot, she broke the staring contest to glance at the treasure.

"So, um, where is the jewel? Just sitting in a pile?"

"It's in a crevice over the chamber. Less likely to be spotted there, and fewer creatures can squeeze inside to get their paws on it," Matt replied flatly with a flash of irritation in his eyes at the thought of the magical stone.

Natalie winced and made a mental note to avoid discussing the jewel. "Alright... So, um..."

Matt was still staring at her, and she found herself fidgeting as she cast about for something to say, and all the while thinking it had never been so difficult to talk to him before.

"You called me your queen," she finally reminded. "Is that a title for dragons?"

Matt's lips quirked and he shook his head fondly, though his cheeks heated. "In a sense. A queen is a female dragon—a dragoness. To say you're my queen is..." His voice trailed off before he gathered himself. "It means you're the only one for me. You're the one I'd share my den and hoard with, you're the one I'd fight to keep and protect, and you're the one to share my life with. Dragon's don't mate for life, per say, but there is only ever one partner at a time."

Natalie's cheeks flushed a brilliant red and she felt a distinctly pleased thrum resonate from her heart. "So it's like a... a wife for dragons?"

"Sort of, but on a more possessive level. You can divorce a wife, but only death ends a dragons' bond."

Natalie's mind drifted back to the robe Lance had brought her back before—well over a lifetime ago. Thanks to her recent experiences, she knew that garment had come from the time of the kitten kingdom. And if she were following Matt's explanation correctly...

"So dragons don't have casual lovers?"

Matt laughed at the question and at how red Natalie's face became. "Of course dragons have casual lovers. Where it moves from a fling to a true bond is when a dragon invites their chosen to share their space. Dragons are highly territorial, so to allow another into your den shows you trust them enough to not to attack you for your hoard. It often means romance, but not always."

Natalie's mind raced as different pieces than she'd been seeking fell into place. Lance and Anna had come uninvited, and furthermore, they had admitted to fighting Matt. If that were the case, then it was little wonder Matt had been so aggressive and unwelcoming to them. Grief aside, he'd clearly fallen back on a more instinctual lifestyle, so they had been trespassers and potential threats.

"...Maybe you should get some sleep," Matt suddenly suggested. "You were up for most of the night talking to me, after all. You must be tired."

She was exhausted, but there was no way she could sleep now—not when she'd been reunited with Matt. And she still wanted to know who the woman who'd owned the dress had been, and what she'd meant to Matt. With a deep breath and a mental promise to herself to keep an open and fair mind, she looked up to meet Matt's eyes.

"...Back when I lost control of my mana," she started, only to falter when a look of agonized guilt crossed Matt's face. Luckily, he still prompted her to go on, and she hesitantly continued, "Lance brought me a change of clothes the following day, since mine had been soaked and left on the floor all night."

"Yes...?" Matt slowly asked in a confused voice, unsure of where she was going with this. Inanely, he wondered if she was finally getting her vengeance for stripping her back then.

"He brought me a dress unlike any I'd ever seen before. It was made of something lighter yet stronger than silk, dyed a crimson red with golden embroidery. I can't imagine him being a closet cross-dresser with an exotic taste in clothes, so the garment had to have come from your hoard."

"You want to know who it had belonged to," Matt guessed in a tone that said he wasn't really asking a question.

His expression was entirely neutral—too much so for Natalie to believe he was actually impassive about it. She nodded slowly and glanced away with uneasy embarrassment.

"Looking at it made me realize you'd furnished your room to a woman's tastes, then I found out you had stone steps leading up to your den; they'd worn away to mere bumps, of course, but no stone has ridges that evenly spaced while still remaining so smooth from weathering. And... while I was underground, I- I had some visions. There were these... cat-people in a costal city, and they wore the same kinds of clothing, just maybe not so grand."

"The Cathins," Matt agreed calmly. "They were Godcat's most favored children, and the actual masterminds behind all the ruins and creations from the time of her rule. My lover wasn't a furry, if that's what you're getting at."

Natalie smiled slightly at the joke and shook her head, but went on. Her eyes held Matt's as she quietly revealed, "I thought maybe it was my memories manifesting in a weird way until I got all of them back, but now I'm not so sure. I know you were alive back then, and you appeared in more than one vision, plus the dress Lance brought was the exact same cut and style. One vision involved a young woman: a warrior, I think, with black hair and a golden circlet. You called to her, caught her up and kissed her; you looked... very happy."

"What does it matter? She's long since dead, and at my claws," Matt bit out in a tight voice, clearly not wanting to discuss this matter.

And Natalie nearly let it drop, not wanting to upset him. But a part of her couldn't let the issue go: it had started from a sense of inadequacy back before, then it had spiraled rapidly out of control. But were her peace of mind and effort to be more open with herself and others worth tearing at what was likely an old scar on Matt's soul—maybe even still an open wound? Perhaps she could let this one go and simply accept there were things she just couldn't know or change.

"It doesn't, I suppose," Natalie finally murmured, looking down at her feet. "I just... It's complicated."

Matt's expression softened at the uncertain sadness to Natalie's voice. "What is it, Natalie? You wouldn't bring it up at all if it weren't important to you, I'm sure." He reached out to touch her chin and bring her gaze up, then ran a soft thumb across her cheek. "Does it upset you that I loved other people before I met you?"

"No... Yes... A little... I don't know," Natalie mumbled. "I accept that you've been alive for longer than most creatures can imagine, and it would be ridiculous to think I've been the only one true love of your entire life. I'm a little jealous, I guess, but that wasn't why I was asking."

Matt looped an arm around her slender shoulders to guide her deeper into his den. They wound up on the dusty couch in his library. It was there that Natalie spied the old journal, the start of it all, and she let out a shaky sigh.

"I didn't understand you being a dragon. Once I learned the truth, I thought it was little wonder that you never seemed to show that you might possibly love me, too."

"I never judged you on your blood or species, my beautiful queen," Matt assured her with a small frown.

Natalie's heart fluttered at the loving title in an exotic tongue, and her cheeks lightly flushed. She looked up to meet his eyes again, and tried to smile reassuringly. "It wasn't that I thought you saw me as lesser or anything, but that I thought you couldn't love me. Sure, you looked like a human—talked and behaved like a human—but you weren't really one. I thought maybe dragons could only... marry, love, mate, whatever... other dragons. Lance had mentioned something about dragon libidos, and that you'd never reacted to any pretty women we saw—myself included, though he didn't say or mean to imply that. I thought I was something that could never hold that kind of place in your heart and life. I didn't understand, and I was too afraid to approach you about it then."

Matt's face fell as he whispered, "That wasn't the case at all. I just... I think my mind had already declared you to be mine, in a way. I had no eyes for anyone else, but I was wary of pursuing you for many reasons—my longevity and history, being two of those reasons. Not that you could have known that, of course. But what does that have to do with the dress?"

Natalie's eyes dropped again, and she clasped her hands in her lap. Her voice was low as she said, "All the signs—the dress, the décor, the steps—added up to me realizing that whomever you'd loved before, they couldn't have been a dragon. Dragons have no need for stairs when they can fly up a cliff, they don't need a bed when they're just as happy to curl up on a pile of gold. And I'd lashed out and hurt you when you were vulnerable, and it made me realize that the reason wasn't that you couldn't love me, but that you simply didn't. And I could see why. I... I've hated myself for a large portion of my life. It was in varying degrees of hatred over the years, but it... My self esteem might as well by classified as nonexistent. I was rejected from my family and society because of my magic, I never seemed to be enough for anyone to truly notice, I could only seem to hurt my closest friends and you, a person I loved, and I couldn't control my magic. I tried to find some small comfort in the idea that it wasn't me that was the problem for us, only to realize you could, and had, loved other women. And everything I tried to do to control my frustration with myself and the world always backfired or blew up in my face."

Matt's heart ached as he listened to the truths that had motivated the events long ago. It had started as something small and manageable, but had rapidly snowballed to disastrous proportions. And the logic she'd worked off of was so painfully easy to follow in hindsight that it was hard to fault her in any way, even as a gentle chide. But she wasn't done speaking just yet, though he could smell the tears in her eyes.

"I thought, maybe this time I can be better," Natalie breathed. "I want to face my problems, worries, and fears head on. I... I want to show you I trust you enough to come to you when I'm upset, and that I don't blame you, but rather believe you can help me find the right of it all. That's why I brought up the dress and the past lover. I want to move past it, to bring that part of my life and those issues to a close. Because that stupid little thing could have been cleared up in less than a day if I'd just talked to you like I should have. I would never have lost control of my magic, I would never have opened the portal to let loose the demons that plague the world now, and I would never have believed my death could fix anything. We could have had these last seven hundred years together, but we didn't because I was too afraid to try and face reality." She looked up once again and searched Matt's glimmering eyes as she asked, "Can you forgive me for being a coward, and will you help me be brave?"

Matt's response was to lean down and press his lips to hers. A low moan rumbled in her throat as he licked his way into her mouth to languidly run his tongue along hers in a passionate kiss. Unknowingly, he was pressing on the back of her head to hold her close, though she certainly didn't mind, nor planned to escape. It wasn't until he pulled away that he responded in words.

"Though I hold it isn't necessary, I forgive you," Matt murmured. He tilted his head slightly as he studied her flushed cheeks with a faint smile and added, "And I would be honored to be your support as you try to strengthen your weaknesses. And I'm sorry as well. I was secretive back then—I still am, now—and being so closed off only made your troubles worse. I promise to be as open as I possibly can, and I'll explain anything I do that doesn't make sense to you. So don't ever be afraid to ask me to stop and help you."

Natalie let out a soft laugh of relief and leaned forwards to rest her forehead against Matt's chest. "Thank you, Matt. I forgive you, too, though I never thought it was your fault."

They stayed there for a few moments before Matt shifted them around to have her tucked against his side. Several minutes passed in content silence, and Natalie had begun to doze off before he let out a quiet sigh.

"Her name was Dyclara," he murmured with his eyes fixed on the shadows on the far side of the room. "She was a half dragon, like you, though not from my blood."

Natalie's eyes opened, but she didn't move beyond resting a hand on his leg in silent comfort and support. His words were distant as he recalled the dead woman.

"Dyclara was a spitfire: always moving, and always getting into trouble. She was the daughter of a house of nobles, towards the end of the cat dynasty. I met her at the shrine to Helsath, acting in my duty as a guardian. She turned away as soon as I told her to—for the first and only time in her life, she later told me. Not that she stayed away, of course. I fascinated her, I think, as a mature dragon well-versed in his gifts and secluded from the world at that point. She'd come back once every sixth-day with some silly little offering: gold, jewels, a shiny pocket watch, a rack of roast lamb... I had no idea why she did it, and for a long time, I didn't care. As long as she stayed outside the cave and didn't try to figure out how to use the altar, or pester me for details, then she could do as she pleased. We talked, I trained her a little, and we'd take brief walks through the woods around the shrine."

"She sounds like she was nice," Natalie murmured softly.

"She was—very nice. Those visits were the only interactions we shared for over a year and a half. I was relatively new to my duty, and disliked leaving my post for any longer than the time it took to hunt a meal, but I started to look forwards to having her visit, craved her company and companionship. I liked teaching her, too, and I saw her as my protégé Then, one week, she didn't arrive. I brushed it off fairly easily the first time: one missed meeting for a one and a half year period was easily forgivable and understandable. The second miss was harder to explain away. By the third miss, I was afraid she'd gotten bored of coming out to see me. After the fourth miss, I left the mountain of Helsath's shrine for the first time and sought her out."

Natalie listened intently as Matt fondly described the woman he'd clearly fallen in love with so long ago—likely his first real love. And surprisingly, she didn't feel an ounce of jealousy or upset to hear him speak so warmly of another woman. Perhaps, she mused as she shifted to get a little more comfortable—perhaps it was because she knew he was hers now, and would remain that way for as long as they lived.

"So where had she been?" she prompted softly when Matt remained silent, lost in thought.

"As it turned out, she'd been betrothed, and her fiancé and their families didn't like that she was forever traipsing off unchecked to meet with a wild beast in the mountains," Matt snorted. He let out a short laugh as he admitted, "I, ah, crashed the wedding reception, and carried off the bride. I was a little... jealous and possessive, I guess you could say."

"A little?"

"Okay, so I was very jealous and possessive. Dyclara thought it was hilarious, and couldn't stop laughing long enough to thank me for saving her from a life of dull, wifely duties, she called them. We basically eloped that day, avoiding her parents' considerable reach and influence. That was when I found this island and decided to claim it for our own, though she didn't get control of her dragon form for well over fifty years, which is why I had the stairs carved, and the acquired bedroom furnishings."

"That's really sweet, actually. Like fairytale sweet," Natalie hummed. "The dragon carries away the maiden to live a life of freedom and love."

Matt laughed and shook his head. "Depends on who was telling the tale. I doubt her parents thought it was so sweet, anyway." He smiled wider and his voice was wistful as he admitted, "But we were happy, free, and very much in love. And we stayed that way for a very long time."

Natalie's smile faded as she braced herself for the coming turn to the worse.

"Dragon's blood is a tricky thing," Matt murmured morosely. "It's powerful, and takes a lot of willpower to control and direct—willpower Dyclara had never needed to have. And the older a person with dragon blood gets, the more powerful the blood becomes and the harder it is to control. She started to have fits of rage—would fly out to pillage and burn. And I, the naïve and lovestruck lizard I was back then, didn't recognize the signs, nor had the guts to stop her when I realized what was wrong. I kept hoping she'd snap back to herself, that she'd return to being the mischievous, stubborn little troublemaker I'd fallen in love with."

"But she didn't, obviously," Natalie gently prodded when Matt trailed off.

"No, she didn't. By this point, the war against Godcat was well underway. Entire cities were sacked and pillage for any and all wealth and objects of power. The lesser guardian deities were captured, ensnared, and forcibly reformed into the jewels used to seal Godcat. People, cats, Cathins, and beasts everywhere were snatching at any opportunities to become stronger more quickly, and Dyclara ended up being no exception. She... she returned to Helsath's shrine, prayed at the altar, and stole some of the god's power; it corrupted her absolutely. By the time I caught up to her over the kitten capital, she was little more than a raving beast, claiming to be the greatest terror the skies had ever seen, and that we should claim our dominion over the world as our birthright demanded.

Matt let out a shuddering sigh, and his voice was brittle as he finished his tale. "Even if I'd wanted to burn the world and rule over the ashes with her, I couldn't. Helsath had ordained Dyclara's death, and as his guardian I was forced to carry it out. It was my growing lax in my guard that had led to the theft, he claimed, and it was only a fitting punishment to lose that which had made me lose sight of my purpose and duty. It was no contest at all. Dyclara was merely a half-dragon with not even a quarter my age or experience. I brought her down and left her to bleed out on the stone streets of the city as Helsath demanded."

Natalie swallowed at the grief in Matt's voice, and pressed a little closer to him. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It was never your fault. There were dozens of things I should have done differently—would do differently, if given a second chance. I could have disciplined Dyclara, I could have curbed her instincts by exerting myself over her as her mate, I could have never left Helsath's shrine in the first place... There were many forks in the road where I chose the wrong path. It was an agonizing lesson to learn, but I would never give the experience back. Dyclara showed me to the world beyond the mountain shrine, she showed me what love could be like... and she showed me that both my actions and inactions can have consequences. The last lesson is the hardest to master, and I still don't have it completely learned, but it gets easier with every choice to look ahead and see the consequences."

Natalie nodded and lifted her hand to study it—and her claws. "Lance says I've begun hoarding," she mumbled nervously as she lowered her hand again. "And you mentioned I was coming into my blood. Will I... Am I going to end up being just another Dyclara?"

"It's highly doubtful," Matt soothed with a rub along her back. "Dyclara was half red dragon, and they were always known for being more bestial and prone to violence than gold dragons. Furthermore, you've trained as a mage, and discipline is something engrained to your very being. Yes, you've had instances where you've lost control, but for the amount of mana you have, it's beyond unusual that you haven't had more trouble controlling yourself. And all that's ever held you in check was your own willpower. Besides, my blood was given freely, and I'm here to help you learn the changes to your body and mind. Dyclara took her blood as a prize for defeating a red dragon, and blood not freely given is naturally much more opposed to being assimilated or controlled."

"Huh. I didn't know that," Natalie said curiously, reassured now that she knew she had a much better chance to remain herself.

"You wouldn't. Blood magic is a very primitive and archaic form of the artes that isn't widely used because it isn't as reliable or practical, and the ethics surrounding it have always been contested."

OOOOOO

Lance couldn't help being distracted by having Matt traveling with them. If the dragon would stick to one form it wouldn't be as much of an issue, but he didn't. With no need to hide, and a world covered in monsters of all kinds, Matt tended to fluidly shift forms to whatever fit his fancy at the time. And he'd do it mid-stride, too. One moment, he'd be keeping pace with them in human form, then he'd shift to being a large dog-sized dragon trotting at their side, then he'd get bored of that and shift to a hawk-size and ride on Natalie's shoulder.

"What does it feel like to shift?" Natalie asked one day as they sat around the fire, munching on some travelers rations.

Matt looked up from his food and shrugged. "Like breathing, to me. I suppose there's rush of energy, but it isn't anything significant."

"Do you think it's something I could do, too?"

"Sure, with some practice. Your form will never be large as mine, though."

A/N: Definitely needs to be its own chapter fic, but I'm too lazy to fill in the missing pieces, yet. :P The advantage I have is I just need to connect parts, for the most part—barring the ending. The irritating part is that it removed my italics, so I've had to go put those in again. A daunting task with 50k+ words. There are probably typos, since the thing is so long, so please let me know what you find.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed, felt feels, etc. Leave me some reviews, and I'll see you all (hopefully) soon!