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I waited for K’Dol to taunt me with some evil NPC nonsense about a fetch quest or answering a riddle, but she just swirled about, churning and waiting, the face watching me from the clouds.
Damn. Twenty questions it was then. “Were you the Usurper Queen?”
The storm twisted into knots.No.
“One of her pups that escaped and survived?”
No.
“Did the Usurper Queen build the portal?”
No.
“Tell me about how a Chaos dragon can see memories. My Mooring theorizes that it is caused by an event sowrongthat it causes a ripple in space-time, akin to how the effects of a supernova can be felt for eons.”
Your Mooring is correct. The cosmic web remembers the injury. The danger, little geode, is that those memories become your memories, and you will carry them forward within you. Their destructive force, even diluted and eroded by time and distance, can destroy you, as they have destroyed many Chaos dragons before you.
Sounded like a permutation of Dekka’s affinity. “And you’re something similar to that.”
Very clever.
The malevolent face swirled, and the darkness shifted in an uneasy and slightly cruel chuckle. My scales tingled, and I clenched down on my magic.
The darkness whirled, snapped, lightning whipped, and when she spoke again, it was not exactly in that smug sing-song voice.
I am not a Chaos dragon. I am an echo of one.
K’Dol’s ghostly ribbons moved over my scales, especially the ones around my finlets and horns. “The Usurper Queen.”
Laughter.No.
K’Dol twisted, swirling all the clouds around her face, then dissipated completely.
A moment later, the clouds cracked, and a pulse snapped across my scales and made my horns tingle and finlets twitch. I hissed and twisted to look behind me, where the face had re-formed, and the nexus of the storm now swirled.
“Did you just try to spook me?” I asked.
She swirled back to her original position, stormy and dark.
The echoes of the attempt flitted over my scales. Harmless ripples.
The dark urge tobitecoiled in my scales and made my fangs tingle.
Keep a grip, PangeaPandora. Don’t give in.
K’Dol swirled, deepening and purple, seething.
I am the grimoire of the one you call the Usurper Queen.
Grimoireconjured a sensation against my scales that translated itself into an image in my mind of a nine-sided spear of obsidian or jet, capped at each end with an iridescent metal and black, chaos-dragon scales. “Her grimoire?”
You are aware of what the grimoire of a Chaos dragon is.
“Yes, it’s the book they write to leave instructions for another Chaos dragon.”
The grimoire is not a book. It is not a text.
“I understand that they were imbued somehow, but I thought they were just text and maybe diagrams.”
