The Dragon's Book

*:.*.:*Chapter 2.1*:.*.:*

The day after Nero turned eighteen, An'Ara returned to the tower to continue their work. His skill with Ta'Vedi's flame was nearly perfected, and the only thing that now remained was to write his translation of Her teachings, a task all priests had to undertake before they could go to serve in one of the valleyworld's temples.

"You will continue where we left off," An'Ara told him as they sat down on the mats in the corner of the second room. "If you do well I will show you something you have waited long for."

Across the room, Nero's mother looked up from her painting. She smiled encouragingly.

Nero's heartbeat quickened with both excitement and fear. An'Ara could only be speaking of his ceremonial cape; he knew she had been working on it for weeks now. It was a symbol of his commitment to Ta'Vedi, something he now both longed for and dreaded.

For now, the excitement won out. He sat down and continued his work on the first book of Ta'Vedi's writings:

Ta'Vedi lived alone in Amenar. She looked at the land and saw that it stretched on for as far as the eye could see. It displeased Her that the land She inhabited should be empty but for Herself, so She created life: beasts of the land, water, and air. Each creature She made pleased Her more than the next.

But two of Ta'Vedi's creations did not please Her. She found humanity to be selfish, warlike, and rebellious. The race of monsters she had formed to balance the volume of life in Her forests was too destructive. These creations killed to satisfy bloodlust rather than hunger, and were unworthy of Amenar.

Ta'Vedi decided at last that monsters and humans could no longer live with her in Amenar. She crafted a prison for these unworthy creations—a hole which reached deep into the earth, with walls of stone⁓⁓⁓

The sound of the tower's door opening made Nero's reed pen falter for a moment and ruin the sheet of translations he had been working on. He looked up in frustration to see who had caused the interruption and was surprised to see the Chief Elder of the Empire, who had never been to the tower before. Nero had never even seen him outside the walls of the palace complex.

Nero was not afraid of the Elder. The man's spine was bent with age, his steps were slow, and Nero had never heard him raise his voice above a low murmur. His sun-browned face was wrinkled with smile lines. Yet he wasn't smiling now, and whatever he told Nero's mother made her stumble back as though he had hit her with a club.

"So suddenly?" she asked, putting a hand to her head. She began to rub her fingers in circles over her temple.

The Chief Elder said something else. Nero strained to hear what it was, and caught the words "Veneration," and "a year."

"So it has happened," An'Ara said softly. Nero glanced over to see that she, too, had been distracted from her work by the Elder's arrival. She was now narrowly watching Nero's mother and the Elder speak in rushed, low tones. Her brown eyes were more serious than usual.

"What's happened, Teacher?" he asked, feeling a sudden rush of apprehension chill him.

An'Ara waved a hand. "You will know."

I don't think she knows herself, the Voice told him. Look at her, wagging her head like a sleepy bird about to fall off a branch. It would be so easy just to—

Nero shook his head.

His mother was now becoming angry, shaking her head and beginning to pace back and forth. She paused to say something else, and her words came out in a hiss, this time clearly audible: "You cannot."

He is so old, so weak, the Voice groused. So easy to bite. That's the only way to make a person see sense.

Nero couldn't take the suspense anymore. "Cannot what? What's happening, mother?" He fumbled for his crutch, then used it to rise from his chair and move closer. His mother's eyes lingered sadly on the crutch before she reached for him.

"Nero, the Empress has died," she said, touching his arm lightly with one hand. She looked suddenly older. "The Chief Elder has arrived because—" She paused, then looked away.

"You are the Empress's only living heir," the Elder said softly. "You are the valleyworld's next ruler."

"Can't he give the throne up?" Nero's mother asked, wringing her hands. "He's about to become a priest."

"It is sad to tell, but no." The Elder gestured helplessly. "There is no other with the blood of the empire to take the crown."

Nero's thoughts, usually so neatly arranged, began to fly every which way. They were a jumble of translations, crutches, and the Voice's description of an interesting leaf. The only thing he could clearly comprehend was that he was about to do something terribly wrong. Becoming a priest and serving the goddess who had cursed him was bad enough, but to take power over all Her living creations would be unthinkable.

The throne of the valleyworld was not for demons.