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“Humanity still doesn’t know dragons exist.”
I see. So when you said you had made a choice, and your choice was to do nothing, you sided with the dragons.
Deep, deep, stormy hatred swirled against my scales.
“I’m on civilization’s side,” I said.
The storm twisted into suffocating hatred.
You will stand by and watch the dragons destroy humanity. That is what you intend to do.
“No! That’s what I’m trying to avoid!”
You could have avoided it by now. You are here because you are desperate, but now I see what your choice is. If you consume me and fail to achieve your goal, you will still watch as humanity is destroyed. True?
“True,” I whispered.
So you will exhaust every option on behalf of the dragons, but have not even explored a single option on behalf of humanity.
“That is not what’s happening,” I snapped. “I’m—”
That is exactly what is happening. You are exactly like the dragons who said they could not interfere with humanity, and would let them scrape and crawl and live in the dirt and mud and suffer and die and FORGET what they once had been. We abandoned them. They would have seen soon enough we were not gods! Instead, the dragons let them SUFFER. And YOU have chosen to let humanity SUFFER.
K’dol’s menace turned to pure hatred, and she disappeared into the storm.
Twenty-Four
Fuck.
I needed that stupid grimoire.
The rock I’d been “on” disappeared. The firmament was compressed and energetic and a maelstrom, but not true chaos. Waves might look random and chaotic; they weren’t. Fluid dynamics were a hell of a thing. Space might look empty, but it wasn’t. Chaos wasn’tliterallychaos, and the universedidhave certain rules that Chaos dragons could bend, but not break.
I flapped against the storm, scanning the clouds for K’Dol.
There.
I darted towards a cloud formation.
Flying was fucking awesome.
K’Dol, now a small shadow of no determinate shape, skimmed through the clouds and disappeared into lightning.
I swept around, keeping the white tunnel in the corner of my eye. K’Dol darted beneath me. I twisted over and ducked after her, streaking through the storm. The lattice pattern on my wing membranes burned bright pink-magenta, and the storm intensified until little ribbon-lightening strikes licked off my scales and horns, but each one told me where the pesky grimoire was. I just had tocatchthe damn thing.
The grimoire shot beneath me, I dove, it flicked through the firmament, then ducked away into a wall of storms.
I yanked up short.
I poked the storm with a ribbon of magic. Some sort of strange membrane. I extended more ribbons to feel through the storm. My mind produced no words for the sensation of what the membrane felt like.
I resumed flying—slowly—and explored the membrane. It ran up and down, with distinctive, but very subtle, vertexes attaching each panel.
Three.
What were the odds that this membrane had nine sides?
I pushed against the firmament, gently, and it flowed and tumbled like clouds. Very humid clouds, though. The membrane was something else. But it couldn’t be the braided thread, sincethatwas the white tube behind me. So what was this thing?
