They have tried to encourage the lower natures of man, encouraging the demons that dwelt in the soul to take precedence. They had fostered rage and anger, and sought to turned it against fellow man, against the other races, against the other tribes.
But that rage was tempered with virtue. So when the Eight fomented rage, expecting to release demons upon the earth, they found instead vengeful crusaders, angels of wrath, ready to rise against the Eight and slay them.
***
Something had changed.
It had changed in a fashion so subtle, on a plane of reality separate from the gross consciousnesses of the masses. It was a plane not of matter, but of spirit, of ideas and emotions. Here, the whorls and eddies of the thoughts rippled around the souls of all, in every place and time, for here, time and space were one and the same.
Here, a battle was taking place, a battle that was simultaneously a debate and a duel. Words became weapons, ideas became the strength behind them. This battle had taken place before, and it would take place again, over and over again.
It was a battle between decadence and virtue, between lies and truth, between selfish lust and selfless love, between dark and light, between madness and reason. These forces lined up, clashing again and again at the skirmish lines drawn down every age, down every culture, down every soul. It was a war waged between hope and despair.
Yet for a long time, there was disorder among the side of light, of hope, and of good. A champion of the light, a standard-bearer of virtue and good, not chosen by destiny, but uplifted by the light he held, had fallen into darkness. In the slough of madness he had wallowed, thrown in there, held within there. He had held forth an argument that had become incoherent.
But now, there was light regained. The argument became clear, and the light had returned.
The champion rose again, proud and radiant.
And once again, the dark trembled.
***
Laidu stood in a void of white, a field of brilliant light, staring up at the beast that had resided within his head, once shattered and mad, but now whole and terrifyingly sane.
He was a warm gold, the same shade as Laidu's scales, and looked similar to the small, dog-sized dragon Rhaem manifested as. Of course, Rhaem had looked kind of cute, and this being wasn't adorable at all. Instead, he exuded a sense of fear and dread, as if standing in his presence was a terrifying danger.
He stood on four legs, like Rhaem had, but unlike Rhaem, his legs were corded with muscle, ending in sharp claws. His head had the same rough shape as Rhaem's had, but also had a mane of frills and three pairs of long, saber-like horns, instead of the stubs that the smaller voice in Laidu's head possessed. Giant batlike wings erupted from his back, bearing some tears and scars of old wounds, and across his face, raking over one brilliant gold eye, claw marks separated the golden scales of his forehead. He was solidly built, a powerful beast, and he glared down at Laidu.
This was Rhaedra. "So, you're Rhaedra," Laidu said.
"Normally, one addresses the King of Dragons as Rhaedrashah," the dragon grumbled. "It is an insult to my honor otherwise, and such insults are rectified with blood."
"You're in my body." Laidu glared back at him. "King or not, you won't be trying to rectify any insults to your honor."
"Your impudence does not become you." He lowered his head, pulled his wings in closer to his body and growled, stalking closer towards Laidu like a panther. "Have you not heard the songs sung of my victories? The tales told of false kings I had slain?" He moved around Laidu, his growl inspiring terror. "Do they not speak of my power? My scales shine brighter than the sun, and are stronger than the eldest of mountains! My horns are stronger than the lances of a thousand kingdoms, my teeth sharper than swords of a thousand empires! My eyes see into the night as if the moon blazed forth like the sun, and all is revealed before my gaze! My wings blot out the sun, and my claws carve up the land! My roar echoes farther than the east and west winds, bringing fear to all who hear its call! My breath ushers forth death, whether by scorching flame or withering frost! So then, frail child of man," he said, staring right into Laidu's eyes, his head suddenly inches away from Laidu, "have you not heard of me? Why are you so impudent?"
"I have not heard those words describe Rhaedrashah," Laidu said. "I have read legends to seek to know you, and I had heard many things. Chief among them is your other name. Mateslayer, Eggsmasher. Rhaedra, the Mad Dragon King."
He reeled back, as if struck. "You speak too freely of pain you do not know." All the arrogance and rage had left his voice and his visage, leaving him only with a pained expression. "You best keep your mouth shut, before you speak your way into an early grave, frail child of-"
"Her name was Tesira, wasn't it?" Rage ignited in his eyes, followed by terror, then guilt. "She was the one you loved. The one you wanted to start a life with, the one who you wouldn't hesitate to die for." He was silent. "When she moved closer to you, it made the world seem more wondrous, the colors more vibrant, but you didn't notice because she was next to you. She was the one that, when you wrapped her in your arms at night, you knew with every fiber of your being that you were placed in the world to protect her, to guard her and keep her safe, and that you'd be her knight in shining armor, and you'd become the most terrifying of monsters to anyone who tried to hurt her." Laidu nodded. "And then you became the monster that ended her life."
He was silent for a while, as was Rhaedra. "She was beautiful beyond compare," the dragon said in a voice that rumbled like thunder. "I was drowning in the shadows of despair, and she was the light." He turned back to face Laidu. "So... You, and you alone, see."
Laidu nodded. "I had barely stopped myself from slaying Kyra. The Eight had imprisoned me, and I used the Hunger Blood to escape." Rhaedra nodded. "I had been near the edge of such horrors. I couldn't imagine falling past that." He paused. "And one of them wishes to make history repeat itself," he said.
"Then," Rhaedra said, "we must slay him." He paused. "Kazalibad shall die today," he promised.
Both of them turned when they heard footsteps in the void. They turned to face this interloper, a woman in a black dress, the garment standing in stark contrast to the white void they were standing in.
Her hair was red like burnished copper, her skin like cream. However, both of them, Laidu and Rhaedra, were utterly transfixed by her eyes. One was emerald green, beautiful but normal. The other eye, however, was silver, though that brilliant color was set in a sea of black, where the whites of her eye should have been. Despite that strange eye, she was beautiful, though not as beautiful as Kyra.
"Sorceress," Rhaedra growled. "You tread in a strange place for your kind."
"I was drawn here by the weight of destiny," she said, looking at them both. "So... it is true. A Dragonblessed has been made. The Change was not in vain," she said.
"Wait. You caused the Change?" Laidu asked.
"Against my will, but that is a conversation for another time. Now, our moment here is short. I can give you a gift," she said, "an enhancement of the potency of your blood." She moved closer to Rhaedra, closer to Laidu. "My order has waited centuries to witness the death of one of the Eight. It would be an honor to become part of your endeavors, King of Dragons, and you as well, good sir." She addressed Rhaedra first, then Laidu.
"Who are you?" Laidu asked.
The woman moved closer to Rhaedra, who bowed his head. "I have too many titles to remember," she said, "but you can call me Aoife. That is, after all, my name." She held out her hand, and what looked like a miniature star appeared in it, which she pressed against the dragon's head. It vanished, and he shook, like a dog trying to dry itself.
She moved over to Laidu, looking up into his eyes. "Take my gift. End the life of the Eight. Rid the world of his existence. We shall meet again, I promise you. And watch over the girl." She conjured forth another star.
"Kyra?" How did she know of her?
"The young lady, or heiress, or whatever her title is. Yes. She carries a great weight on her shoulders. You may slay and kill evil, but she is important as well, for just as noble a purpose. Protect her." With that, she sent the star into Laidu's head.
Every fiber of his body buzzed with energy, as power coursed through his sinew and marrow, running through his bones and blood. "Go. Slay him. I am called back to my time and place." As soon as she said those words, her semblance drifted apart like smoke caught in a breeze, and Laidu was left alone with Rhaedra.
"Well, my brother," Rhaedra said, "you are almost ready to-"
"Brother?" Laidu asked. "A few moments ago, you were acting like you were going to eat me!"
"I needed to make sure that the child of man I shared a body with wasn't craven. But a stroll through your memories showed me enough." He paused. "And are we not brothers? We share the same visage, and the same blood runs in our veins. Though granted," he said, "we're occupying the same body." He straightened. "And because of that, your eyes need to change. They are not the eyes of a king."
"My eyes?" Laidu asked. "What do you mean by-" He was cut off by a flash of pain in his eyes that, for a moment, blinded him. A few heartbeats later, the sting was gone, and he could see.
And Laidu felt a strange and powerful sensation blossom in his chest, as other Bloods awoke. Sixty-four, to be exact. He didn't know how he knew, but he was sure of it. Sixty-four different ways to unleash death, destruction, and utter annihilation.
"Now," Rhaedra said, smiling, "shall we go hunt an immortal?"
***
Kyra couldn't watch, yet she couldn't tear her eyes away. To see the man she loved killed would destroy her, yet she had to see. She still hid behind Karik'ar, using the crouched Kai'Draen's massive frame to shield herself.
"I thought I would have an entertaining fight, but instead I face a witless madman!" Kazalibad let another ghoulish laugh free. "It takes some of the sport out of killing you, but it will be so satisfying." He stood over the pile of the rubble, and raised a claw. "I'll slay you with your own power, how about that? Just for you." His talons lit up with inner incandescent fire. He had Laidu's power? When did that happen? She had no timke to wonder, as Kazalibad struck, for the killing blow. She screamed.
The blow never came.
Kazalibad stopped, staring at his arm. A manacle of stone, made of clumps of broken statuary, restrained him. His other hand lit up with the Fever Blood, but more stones flew up and immobilized it. And slowly, Laidu rose.
The giant eye on Kazalibad's forehead opened, and the immortal tried to cower. "No! Not possible! You were mad only a few seconds ago!"
Laidu didn't answer. Instead, he roared. Except unlike the roar that would spill forth a deluge of flame, this was more of a short bark.
A blast of concussive force issued from his mouth, ripping up flagstones and sending Kazalibad flying across the square. That was new.
Laidu jumped, and the stones beneath him rose up, forcing him higher into the sky, an earthen launch pad, animated by some new and strange power. He landed in front of Kazalibad.
"Stop, Rhaedrashah!" Kazalibad rose. "Who do you think you are? You cannot be judge, jury, and executioner! Or do you not care for justice?"
Laidu laughed, but it was not his laugh. "Kazalibad, I can be all three, thanks to you. I charge you with treason, murder, and crimes against nature's law and nature's God. As the last citizen of Elysion, I, the jury, find you guilty. As the last king of Elysion, I, the judge, sentence you to death. And as the last soldier under Elysion's banner, I'll carry it out!" Laidu motioned at the ground.
Flagstones ripped free of the pavement, circling Laidu in the air, suspended by his will. But it wasn't his will, Kyra realized, but Rhaedrashah's will. Her beloved was lost, then. Rhaedrashah had taken over.
"And for threatening me, my friends, and my love, I'll be making sure you stay dead." A familiar snarl echoed across the now deserted square. Laidu was still there, and from the sound of it, he was furious.
The flagstones flew through the air, whistling before they embedded themselves in Kazalibad's chest. "Idiot! Let me bleed and I'll only come back sooner! I'll flay you-" His words were cut off by a scream as the stones embedded in his body glowed cherry red, before melting into a white hot mess. Magma.
He ran past Laidu, lit aflame, a walking funeral pyre. He charged towards Kyra before rearing back, hands at his burning neck. Chains, made of flickering flames, wrapped around his neck. "You're going nowhere, fiend," Laidu snarled. "And I'll make sure you never touch her. He pulled Kazalibad back towards him.
"My power keeps you from burning," Laidu snapped, "but we have other ways to destroy you. But first..." He drove his hand into Kazalibad's giant eye.
If Kazalibad's first scream was bloodcurdling, this was something terrifying and unearthly. "Be blind, o hoarder of life, wretched worm of the Eight!" That would be Rhaedrashah.
And then Laidu drove his hand into Kazalibad's chest.
The flames extinguished, and ice crackled around the giant. He slowed, before toppling and shattering. Chunks of the immortal scattered across the ripped up flagstones. "Fire or frost, both will kill you just as well," Laidu spat.
He turned to face Kyra and the rest of them. "Go! Find somewhere safe, and we'll deal with him." He looked into Kyra's and eyes, and she started. "Keep her safe." He turned away.
"The University has one of its halls warded. Once raised, the building is invulnerable," Indra said. "We can seek shelter there. This way!"
As they hurried through the streets, Kyra couldn't stop thinking about Laidu's eyes. They had been a warm amber before. Now they were a reflective, shining gold, a few shades different, but enough to make a striking difference. And the look that haunted those eyes was different. It was regal, almost, possessing a sort of nobility to it.
Those were the eyes of a king.
***
Laidu ran and Rhaedra listened.
Somehow, the dragon was able to pinpoint where Kazalibad was. How, Laidu didn't know, but then again, Rhaedra had much more experience with his own power than Laidu did.
He shares our blood. I listen for the song of our blood, Rhaedra answered. His theft shall be his own undoing.
You talk like you have a plan, Laidu thought. Do you mind sharing?
He is yet to be sufficiently enraged. Kill him more. That was something Laidu could get behind. But do not surrender to rage. He may seek to, in his death, have us damn ourselves with our own hand.
I know. I'm versed in enough theology to know the danger of doing the right thing for all the wrong reasons.
You're a theologian! Wonderful! Then we shall have entertaining discussions and debates, and I don't have to be stuck with some flesh-maddened oaf with a quarter of a wit. I had a friend who became Dragonblessed, joined with a half-Kai'Draen warrior of renown. Hated it, as the warrior had less brains than a sea slug and my friend considered himself an intellectual. Laidu stopped. A dragon intellectual? That was an interesting thought. Of course we have intellectuals. We may not write books, but we are creatures of letters. He fell silent, the pipes up when Laidu came to a crossroads. Left.
He turned just in time to see a couple rushing from a building, possibly an herb shop or an apothecary, before the glass broke and Kazalibad burst free. "You again!" he snarled at Laidu and Rhaedra.
Now, that other blood.
It was eerily similar to Hunger Blood, in that the song it played was one of silence. But unlike the silence of concentration, of emptiness, the silence of a predator, this silence was that of a tomb, of places dead and devoid of life.
His scales became black as obsidian as un-life radiated from his body, an invisible field killing whatever it touched. Kazalibad charged forward, but stopped the second he touched it, before trying to move away, though his body was sluggish. "You... you beast!" Kazalibad snarled, then his myriad of other eyes turned to stare behind him. "Don't worry. I'll kill the rest of you after I finish off him." Laidu turned, staring at Kyra, a second before Karik'ar whisked her away down an alleyway, into safety.
He turned back around just in time to grab Kazalibad's arms as the immortal lunged at his throat. "What are you doing to me?" the fiend snarled.
"Sapping your life," Laidu said. "We'll drain it all." He threw Kazalibad off of him, and advanced on the fallen beast, whose grey skin began to glow, as the immortal drew on the vital essences he had hoarded over centuries, all in a desperate attempt to heal himself.
"No. Not enough. It's not enough!" the immortal roared. He crawled away, at first, heading towards the sea. Then, he rose to his feet and ran.
"Where's he going?" Laidu turned to see Kyra.
He seeks to drain the Coldspire, in all likelihood, Rhaedra said. Should he manage, he could very well vanquish us.
"If Rhaedra's right, he's going to the Coldspire." Laidu turned back. "Thaen, I need you for a moment." Quickly, he asked Rhaedra what their next course of action was.
You know what to do, the dragon said. Fly.
Thaen was at his side. "What do you need me to do?" he asked, his eyes worried. Worried, no doubt, because of his last request. But Thaen would not be slaying him today. No, he had a much more mundane task.
Laidu attuned Fever Blood, and the chill that had been present, a chill that had been ignored by his other blood (which blocked out pain, like all the silent Void Bloods), vanished. Well, what he had to do next was odd, but it certainly wasn't the oddest thing in the world. "Remember that transformation thing I did at Baton's Mill?"
"You're going to do it again, aren't you?" Thaen said.
"No." With that, he wiggled out of his shirt, and stepped out of his pants. "Hold onto this. And this." He left his undergarments on. They'd be ruined, but he valued his modesty more than cotton breeches.
"What are you doing?"
Let me talk please, Rhaedra said. Laidu nodded, and his jaw moved and his voice spoke at the will of another. "He is telling the world a message." Rhaedra paused, giggling in his mind. I'm being melodramatic, but at this moment, I don't care. "He's telling the world that the King of Joy makes his triumphal return."
With that, spasms wracked his back, his legs, and he was forced down to the ground. He could feel his muscles expanding, his scales thickening into armor to rival plate armor, his skull elongating. He grunted as his spine grew to thrice it's length, a tail swishing behind him, as his hands twisted, and his nails stretched into sharp talons. He nearly screamed as horns burst from his head, and almost began to cry out when he felt bones burst from his shoulder blades. He grew, he transformed, and Rhaedra screamed in joy.
And just like that, it was over.
Laidu looked down at forearms as thick as tree trunks, turned back to stare at Kyra, held back by Karik'ar. They were so small now. He admired his large wings, stretching across the broad street, and they weren't even fully unfurled.
"So, Kyra," he heard Skaria chuckle. "I guess Laidu never told you that he wasn't just a Changed, but an actual bloody dragon." Laidu and Rhaedra turned away from them, focusing on the fleeing immortal.
It is time to take vengeance. For us, Rhaedra said, and for all of Elysion.
It is time.
Laidu lifted his head, and from deep inside him, something primal stirred. It didn't come from his human heritage, but from the depths of Rhaedra. It was something chaotic, a fury that started in his lungs, in his belly, and rose.
They roared, and it echoed across the sky, and all knew the terrible and wonderful truth. They roared again, speaking in the ancient tongue of the dragons, one that Kazalibad knew, and it was a message meant only for him.
All Hail Rhaedrashah! Hail Rhaedrashah, King of Joy, The Last King of Elysion, and Her First Avenger!