(Very much belated) New Year's present for you guys! :D Now, I was going to update DQ Reads DQ but time simply didn't allow it, and it was much quicker to start/finish this instead. Soooo those of you waiting for the next chapter for that: wait just a little longer, please do . . . It won't take a month and a half, I promise!

I noticed I didn't really say this that often, so: DISCLAIMER! :)

Responses to reviews are, as usual, at the bottom! (Thanks for everyone's support, and so sorry for such a late update!)

Chapter Four

Sanguis, the One Power

Maybe it wasn't worth it, to waste so much energy to come to this land of shadow and smoke. Maybe it wasn't worth it to divert so much energy and power into . . . this.

But One needs an escape from reality, doesn't One? One needs to take a break from managing the darker powers of the Universe every now and then, no matter how appealing it is to toy with the lesser "living" beings. This particular Power saw this place and its dark sorcerer and seized the chance, a perfect chance to further extend my reaches.

"Do you even plan on killing her off?" Sanguis drawled, watching the smoke dragon weave through the air, every particle of it at Her command. "Did it ever occur to you that just setting her up for death and then bringing back a replacement—perhaps a spy—would prove to be much easier and effective?"

The Shadow Lord glared at Her. . . . But, no. Sanguis smiled to Herself. They were equals, were they not? One sorcerer to another; Malverlain to Sanguis.

"No. Without her the king loses hope and without his hope the land dies of its own dismay. If I possibly can, I hope to end Deltora's so-called splendor by way of my own . . . methods."

Ooh. Methods, was it now? "Well, you won't get any splendor if you let her live to tell the tale," Sanguis said plainly, just as disinterested, Her attention focused on the glowing eyes of the dragon She'd created. Malverlain's eyes narrowed at Her and he hissed, "You are here to be the power source, not the director of that power."

How cliche, Sanguis thought drily. "Very well then, Lord Malverlain." His eyes narrowed even further, but he didn't launch himself at the Power.

"So what do you plan to do to her?" She asked slowly, raising Her eyebrows at him and dissolving the dragon with a wave of Her hand. She joined Malverlain by the seeing glass, arms folded.

His eyes flared with frustration for a moment from beneath the shadow of his hood—She knew he hadn't fully decided!—but this Shadow Lord was no fool. He knew how to mask his thoughts, and mask them fast.

"Draw out the king's anguish with her absence. Keep her within view but ever fading away from him, just out of reach but still in sight." Malverlain laughed darkly, and the sound made Sanguis realize just how much he'd anticipated this. "And who are you to question my plans, Sanguis? You are, after all, simply a—how did you describe yourself?—oh yes, a wandering peddler of power."

She rolled Her eyes. If only he knew. "All right, do what you want. But don't blame me if this goes completely wrong . . ."

Lief

If only—if only if only . . .

"It is not your fault," they all said. "Nothing could have stopped the demons. The Belt did not do anything; you saw it with your own eyes! You must not despair—you brought back all of Deltora's prisoners! What stops you from saving her as well?"

If only I had told them . . . Told her . . .

Listen to me! hissed Veritas. You cannot let it defeat you. You must stay strong and brighten these dark times. Not only for your kingdom, but also for—for . . . Jasmine.

Lief knew. Knew too well. And behind the quiet darkness of his hands over his closed eyes, he could once again see her bright emerald eyes, her radiant face upturned towards the sky as the dragons soared above, glittering gems of land and fire and sky, guardians and protectors of all they had achieved.

Will this be my life forever? he asked Veritas softly. Will it always be my task to go where no others dare and save the kingdom, always giving up what little I have to vanquish the shadows?

Lief could sense the dragon considering her words carefully, her mind working over his words.

After a long, slow silence, she finally said, Lief. . . . Only fate knows.

But he was tired of fate deciding everything for him. Was it fate, then, that Jasmine had been taken? Was it fate that the Shadow Lord would now surely be unconquerable and remain undefeated?

Was it fate that he no longer felt—grounded? Living?

Veritas sensed Lief's thoughts and she sighed through the mind-link. I believe, Lief, she said quietly, that fate is not truly above us, but equal to us. That each of us, in our own time, will find a way to write our own destiny. Perhaps fate could try to interfere, but there is never just one way to approach anything.

He felt her mind's focus shift from the link to the sky. He knew she was seeing something, but he could not sense what. Oh—by the stars, not again . . . I am afraid I must leave you to yourself, King Lief.

It is all right, Veritas. Go on; I will be fine.

Lief felt her farewell nod. I will be back, my king . . .

And then she was gone. Gone, like his father before her, gone like everyone else taken away by the struggle between the Shadows and Deltora.

Gone . . .

The word reverberated in his own mind and silently Lief cursed whoever had created such an empty, lonesome word.

Jasmine

"Hello, Dain."

She could not begin to put together a sensible thought in her mind. Nothing was properly right and she was lost in the midst of the chaotic wrong, lost and utterly alone in a place where nothing made sense.

Dain, alive?

Put up a defensive guard, Jasmine heard her father's voice saying tersely, an echo from the past. Do not let the enemy know if you are shaken.

"Jasmine . . ." Dain's voice trailed off, as though he were groping the dank air for words like she was. "I—I'm not Dain. Or—not who you knew him as. No, I— I mean—" He shook his head, stopping himself. "Please . . . I don't know if I can speak safely here."

What?

And before Jasmine could say anything, Dain—or whoever he was—said quietly, "I know you have nothing right now and that you can't hurt me with any weapons. That the Belt is back across the Mountains. And that you're here against your will." He smiled ruefully and she found herself caught off guard by the half-familiarity of it, the image, the feeling she had first associated with friend and then traitor. But there was something to his voice, something that was strange and irregular . . .

"Please," he added urgently, when Jasmine did not move. "I—I can explain. Just not—not here. You're too close."

Close to what? The Shadow factory? But she could not remember if the horrific building that housed Grey Guards still stood. She could not think, could make nothing of my situation and her mind was clouded, slow, tiresome. She felt heavy and weary and worn all at once and wanted nothing more than to fall to the ground and rest, away from this insanity.

And yet at the same time, Jasmine knew if she did, she would never wake.

"The Barrier Mountains," she growled, struggling to stay upright, fighting to keep herself from collapsing. "Will the Mountains be far enough?"

Perhaps, thought Jasmine, she was out of her mind to trust him. Perhaps letting him lead her anywhere would only lead her to her demise. But it was better than giving the Shadow Lord the satisfaction of seeing her succumb to his power, helpless on his—its—ground.

Dain's eyes brightened and he half-turned so that he had to look over his shoulder to face me. "This way," he said lightly.

And as Jasmine followed him, all she could think about was how familiar and yet distantly foreign he seemed.

Zeean

"It is eating him from within," said Sharn sadly. "He hides it, but anyone can see he carries himself so . . . wearily."

The Toran leader nodded, glancing towards the steps on which Lief stood, waiting for questions as usual at the end of the monthly meeting. Normally there was quiet movement among the crowd, if not an undercurrent of politely quiet chatter.

Tonight, the hall was silent.

"If there are no questions, the king will return now," said Barda, his voice booming in the empty space.

He was greeted with more silence.

Sharn sighed beside Zeean, her own posture weary and tired. As the meeting ended and the people of Del streamed back to their own respective homes, they went up the stairs and through the halls of the palace in yet more stony silence. But the tension was too great: when the two reached Sharn's door the past queen finally asked, "Will it all have been for nothing?"

Zeean thought carefully before answering, her eyes dark with age and the stress of the past day. "I believe it would depend on how you think of 'all being for nothing,'" she said at last.

"I mean . . . my son. The quest for the gems, the freeing of the Deltorans kept in the Shadowlands, the undoing of the Four Sisters and the wakening of the dragons. It was all for him and done by him, with the help of his companions. And without them—" Sharn closed her eyes, sagging with the silent sigh that escaped her. "This is the result. . . . As the Shadow Lord knew it would be. The danger is never completely over, it seems."

"It seems?" Zeean shook her head, her voice worn and jaded. "It seems? There is no way to truly and completely protect the land from any kind of threat; I think we all know this by now. But one does hope there is a way . . . We all cannot help but wish for that total protection."

Sharn nodded slightly and gestured towards Zeean's door. "Yet see what it did to Tora. For now, however, I think we must rest. We'll be of no use to the kingdom if we get no sleep." Sharn smiled thinly and opened it with a key that flashed in the darkness of the hall. As she slid through the opening she said, "Good night, Zeean. And thank you."

"And to you."

Honora

Perhaps . . . Just once . . . Perhaps it will work . . .

She tightened her grip on her perilous perch and half-spread her wings, marveling at the sight around her. Sky, sky, and more sky, and of course the distant-yet-near Mountains and the lands far, far below. Deltora and the Shadowlands, both meeting here at the Barrier Mountains.

Honora narrowed her eyes in the dark, regretting her choice of hunting all day and postponing this venture. A gust of wind rushed around her and she quickly adjusted the angle of her wings, snarling quietly when she slipped and had to regain her footing, clawing at the branches to see again.

Yes . . . A tree at the very top of Dread Mountain may have the best vantage point, but this howling wind will be the death of me!

Honora blew out a small tongue of flame, controlling it tightly so it would not shine like a beacon and pinpoint her spot. The icy cold quickly snuffed it and the brief light left a bright orange-yellow spot in the middle of her vision, irritating her even more. Tonight, it seemed, was a night of bad choices.

She squinted and shifted her tail, trying to balance. There! The inky darkness rippled at that spot on clear nights, an invisible and impenetrable wall that was the true barrier in these mountains.

And if Honora could just see through the disturbance of air . . .

No such luck. She huffed, careful not to let any more of her flame escape, and spread her wings, testing the wind. She would have to get as close to it as she could.

Honora rose into the air, briefly drinking in the feel of lifting off, being weightless and moving with such smooth speed. A turn in the direction of the wind; she easily repositioned her wings and rode it, letting it carry her to the barrier of sorcery—

It happened within a half a moment. The fire, the blood, the glittering death: Honora felt her body flung aside and instinctively she roared, flapping her wings to regain balance. She hissed in pain when she realized her left wing was rendered useless, a dripping gash torn from wing-claw to shoulder. Honora flapped furiously with her right wing, fury lending her strength as she realized the wind was gone.

Feeble creature!

The jeer startled her and she plummeted for a moment before her wits returned and she rose again, fighting the pain, flapping wildly.

Did you really think it would be that easy? The harsh cackle that followed scraped through Honora's mind and she hissed and writhed, wanting nothing more than to be free of the voice's presence.

Then the wind crashed into her side and she was thrown against the mountainside, her useless wing smashed against stone, heated pain exploding. Honora roared in fury as the wind rushed around her, pinning her body against the unforgiving rock.

Consider me surprised to see that such weak things could have defeated the Ak-Baba, mused the voice. Well, I won't be as easy of an opponent!

And it flashed into view next to her. Its eyes glittered cruelly in the darkness and flame encircled its neck. It was a dragon, but it was not a dragon: no dragon was swirling ashes and shadowy malice, no dragon could possibly have the glinting fangs that protruded from its mouth and was nearly as long as its jaw. It spread its wings in mock majesty and bared its teeth in a feral grin.

Greetings . . . Honora.

"Go back to the filthy land you came from," she snarled. But her strength was quickly slipping away and her vision flickered from the pain as the wind mercilessly battered her exposed wing. "You stand no chance against a dragon of Deltora!"

Do I now? Its eyes widened and it cackled again. Is my sight playing tricks on me or do I have you at my mercy? The wind obeys me, the sky my servant. Are you so proud that you would fight me in your condition?

"Better to die honorably fighting than to die knowing you did nothing," Honora hissed. But at the same time . . . Did she even truly believe in my words? Did she still have the strength left to resist?

Ah—honor! It's always honor with you emeralds, isn't it? It screeched and whipped its tail through the air almost in amusement. Is it really so honorable to die as the last of your kind? Is it really so honorable to die for a hopeless cause? Do you really believe in that?

"I am not the last of my kind!" Honora roared, emerald flame engulfing the creature purely out of spite. But even as she said it, she knew there was a part, hidden deep in her deepest thoughts and feelings, that she in fact did not believe it. Honora had no way of knowing if it was the way emerald dragons raised their dragonlings, always teaching them that borders were more than lines, that they were solid and real and would harm you if you ever tried crossing them. Dragons and creatures beyond your borders were not worth the while and infinitely below you; it was always about borders, borders, and borders, about territorial walls and endless barriers . . .

Yes, they were honorable—but they were a hopeless tribe. They fiercely defended nobility—but they were always vulnerable to despair and fell prey to pride. It was the prize irony that they also knew no other dragons possessed.

And in that moment, Honora sensed something within her change. Because unlike the others before her, she realized just how ironic and faulty their beliefs and the lack thereof truly were.

Die slowly, dragon, the monster hissed, its eyes narrowing. But while you're at it, you have one last place to go.

In one moment, Honora spared her beloved land a final glance. In one moment, the fire raging within her poured out and lit up the night with thunderous defiance. In one moment, a high, wild cry and a sky-shaking roar mingled and filled the air. In one moment, emerald flame and gushing darkness twined around and together and away and back again in an ancient, deadly dance older than the beginning of time—

And in one moment—

—there was . . .

Nothing.

For those of you who haven't read Rodda's Three Doors Trilogy or paid a visit to the DQ Wikia, Malverlain is the Shadow Lord's real name. Apparently. (Let us all go and tease him mercilessly!)

Muahahahahaaa! XD Cliffhangers are a "distinctive" part of my "style," unless you haven't noticed. (See, teacher? I am too using our Academic Vocab words!)

Well, hopefully that was a bit better than my previous update. Hopefully . . . (I wrote the majority of this while I was supposed to be either studying or practicing piano. Yeeeeeah.)

Ahem. And a word before the glorious responses to reviews: I just wanted to say a huge thank-you to everyone who's stuck with this, awful attempts at fluff (yes I do remember that long minute I spent trying to word that little paragraph there) and extremely irregular updates included. You guys have no idea how great it is to have you! :D

Now, revel in the glory of my responses to everyone's reviews! (And I would PM you all privately, but I tend to get guest readers and I simply can't manage time that well. I do apologize . . .)

Pink Aces: Why thank you! I think I'm among that high-up league of "good writers" as well, but no one's here to hear me brag—right?

Akronite: Intensity is my specialty. I think. Well, I've gotten a lot better since I first started writing . . . (Incomprehensibly better since third grade, when I began my first "story." *Shudders at the thought of the so-called work of writing*)

Jasminehoran: I actually didn't think of plopping Dain in here at first, but it occurred to me as I was typing and my line of thought was, Well, why not? Throw the readers in for a bit of a loop . . . As usual. ;D

Guest: I am actually pretty sure we all do . . . Dain-hater-Deltorans, unite!

Abigale (Guest): Haha, really? Sage isn't her real name but it's what her name means (and I'd rather not put her name on here, no matter how young she is; the name's really uncommon). But I do know two people named Sage . . . and I don't like them. XD Well, from now on expect constant, unrelenting cliffies. At every single chapter, brace yourself. I'm really sorry about my awful updating habits but there's school(work), the school musical, Odyssey of the Mind, piano, (honor) band practice, studying for the regional spelling bee (but hey, that one's reasonable: if I win I get to go to nationals!), etc., etc. I know. I hate myself sometimes, too. :P

koryandrs: Aww, no criticism? :) How sweet of you . . . Well, thanks as always!

Jacobz: And here it is! Don't worry; if I don't have time I'll make time. It's called life: staying up. XD Yay, you used "entranced"! One of the highest forms of complimenting right there . . .

(And, by the way, sorry if I left anyone out: I did this in a rush. Technically I'm supposed to be doing my Social Studies homework, but heck, this is way better than responding to questions about the Women's Movement.)

SIDE NOTE: Please do bear in mind that I am constantly in school (which happens to be required), doing the work said school dumps on me (required as well), participating in extracurricular activities (i.e. piano, county-wide honor band (which luckily doesn't last too long, but is amazing)), Odyssey of the Mind), and my current occupation . . . which happens to be spelling my head off for the regionals (AKA the IVRSB if anyone wants to look it up). Which I'd better be prepared for, 'cos I have to ditch the Odyssey of the Mind competition in order to go . . . So I've got my mind set on winning the regional spelling bee (wish me luck; if I win, I go to D.C. to participate in nationals . . . Oh fun) and am doing everything I can to memorize the dictionary. (Wait, what? No, backtrack: trying to memorize the dictionary. Heh.)

Soooo there it is, the big impending block of text in which I complain about my life . . .

(Did I seriously just type an A/N longer than the actual chapter?!)

Well, do drop a review! :D Tell me about your thoughts on the chapter, your life, anything: but above all, does anyone know some good spelling websites out there? The stupid official Scripps website has absolutely nothing or has lists with words I constantly use—properly. Help me win! XD Just kidding; all reviews make me happy. (So now I'm implying you should help make me happy . . . Am I conceited or what . . .)

ALSO: Please check my profile for detailed info about natural disasters that have very much disrupted my writing. Thanks! :)